Getting to the Heart of the Matter
by FusseKat
Summary: Finally Complete - Did they finally get to the heart of the matter? This is a sequel to "Straight From Your Heart". My summary skills are horrible, hopefully the story isn't. Thanks For Reading! Feedback?
1. Chapter 1

As always, I don't own any of the characters from LO:CI - just having some fun with them. No harm intended.

This is a sequel of sorts and picks up directly after the events of "Straight From Your Heart" also hosted here at .

* * *

Chapter 1

Hope Quinn Thornton woke slowly, allowing the heaviness of sleep to ease before opening her eyes. Tightening her arms around the pillow she held, she stretched, feeling the pull on her muscles, the lengthening of her ligaments. Releasing the stretch, she finally felt awake enough to open her eyes. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was still early, only 7 o'clock. Stretching again her gaze landed on the photo next to the clock and smiled.

She had been greeted each morning by the smiling faces in that photo for over three years now. Today she wasn't struck by the usual sadness that descended at not recognizing a single face in that photo save her own. She had made a connection with someone. I was new, it was exciting and scary, and it was real. As she stared out the window from her bed, wondering what he was thinking about the what had been transpired over the last few months, Hope realized she had actually turned that corner almost a year ago. Hope had begun to return her journey back. Every day since had slowly gotten better. Days didn't drag on endlessly, color, scent, and light slowly returned as hope returned.

Hope's return began innocently enough. She had noticed him. It had taken her awhile to realize that what she noticed was the change in the man. She was very surprised to discover that on some level that she must have noticed him before. Over the next several days she had taken to looking for him. Waiting for him. Watching for him. It didn't take long to recognize the look he wore; she had seen the same look reflected back at her as she brushed her teeth every morning and every night. It was the torn, bruised and battered look of survival, of stumbling through long, endless days, and longer, more endless nights.

She found herself watching for him as she left and came home from work, often going days without seeing him, her anxiety slowly increasing until finally she did see him again. she took leaving her apartment early most mornings to wait outside until he would leave his own building across the narrow courtyard and walk off in the direction of the subway. Once she saw him off and on his way, she would join the flow of people heading uptown.

It was as the fall turned to winter and the winter yielded to spring, and his burdens seemed heavier upon him, that she began to notice other things about him. His eyes, his lips, his hands and she wondered what it would be like to gaze up into those eyes, to trace the outline of those lips, to entwine her fingers within his. This man she had only seen from a distance. This man she had neither spoken with nor met.

A week later, she began the first letter. 'How do I say this... Words are difficult sometimes, hard to express what you truly feel…'

Weeks later, she saw him returning to the building and without thinking, she fell into step behind him and followed him into the elevator. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, she was surprised that the others in the car weren't staring at her. But no one noticed her or paid any attention to the percussive pounding, not even him.

He exited on the car on the eighth floor; she got off on the ninth and ran down the fire exit stairs to the lower floor. She didn't see him, but she heard a door slam closed down the hall. Slowly she walked down the hallway to stand in front of the door she thought had closed. Pressing her palm against it, she leaned closer until she could hear the muffled sounds of keys and other items landing on a counter or table. This had to be his apartment. No one else had gotten off the elevator.

She returned three days later to leave that first letter, the letter that had taken her days to write and weeks to deliver. Once again as she walked down the hallway her stomach did somersaults. Stopping outside the door she knew was his; she kneeled and extended a shaking hand towards the gap at the bottom of the door. Slowly she slid the envelope as far under the door as she could. Pulling her arm back, she raised her fingers to her lips to still their shaking. Staring at the small corner of white paper visible from the doorway she almost reached out to grab it back, but quickly stood and raced back down the hallway to the elevator, before she could change her mind.

That evening she watched from her window, waiting for the lights to come on in his apartment. She watched as he poured his drink, she watched as he stood at the breakfast bar and removed a takeout container from a bag. She watched as he sorted through his mail, tossing all aside except for one – it had to be hers, the envelope she had pushed through the door. She watched as he opened the envelope, she watched as he flattened out the sheet of paper and read the letter. She watched as he raised his head and looked around his apartment. She watched as he read the letter again. Sitting in her darkened apartment, she drew in a fresh breath of air, one that felt like the first in a very long time as s smile briefly play across her lips behind her fingertips. It was unlike any smile in a very long time. If she'd had to categorize it, she realized now that it had been one filled with hope.

Then there was last night…

* * *

Bobby Goren awoke alone in his bed. But for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel quite so alone. His anonymous letter writer was no longer anonymous. After weeks of questions, he finally had some answers. He had an address, he had a name, he had a face, he had a voice. He had even met her last night.  
Why do I scare you so much?" he asked quietly as he stepped to the side and allowed her both some room to breath and some room to close the door.  
"You don't. This does." She answered, her eyes still looking at the carpet.

"Don't you think this scares me too? But your letters… they meant something." He bent down to get her attention and as he straightened to his full height, he drew her gaze with him. "There hasn't been" – he looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath before continuing, "There hasn't been much for me to look forward to, to anticipate."

As his voice choked, she had looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, "You gave me hope." As he looked down at her with his own tear- filled eyes – a single tear slipped slowly over the rim and slid slowly down his cheek. She stepped forward and reached up to gently swipe the track of its path. His hand reached up for hers and held it in place as he took a shuddering breath. Dropping her hand from his face, she wrapped both arms around him and as he slowly and tentatively he brought his arms around to embrace her, she laid her head against his chest. He tightened his embrace and they clung to each other as they ended their separate journeys through fear and loss and began their journey together to…

Bobby went out to the kitchen to start the coffeemaker before shucking off his boxers and t-shirt and jumping in the shower. As the water cascaded down his body, he rehearsed the phone call he planned to make.

"Good morning, Hope. I hope you slept well, I know I did. For what was probably the first time in months, if not years. I was wondering if you had any free time today?"

Boy, if this didn't make him feel and sound like an awkward sixteen-year old again, he didn't know what would. Dressed in jeans and long-sleeved sports shirt, he grabbed his cell phone and walked over to the window to see if he could tell if Hope was awake yet. He knew which window was hers, just as she knew which windows were his. He saw her cat, Quills, sitting on the window ledge. But no sign of any movement, or any other sign of Hope. Glancing at the DVD player, he saw that it was only 8 o'clock, too early to call. Their conversation last night had been unlike any he'd ever been a part of before. It had been at times, tentative and embarrassed. It had also been honest and revealing. It was several hours later that he fianlly returned to his building. Both still wondering what awaited them.

He poured his first cup of coffee of the day as he flicked through the channels on the TV remote, finally stopping on one of the cable news programs. Famine, war, and pestilence abounded throughout the world this morning, but today that wasn't his world. Today his world was one filled with Hope.

........... Chapter 2 coming soon..................


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hope woke fully after hours of fitful dozing, dozing while replaying those last few hours from last evening. Though the meeting the previous evening had begun with nerve-wracking apprehension and embarrassment, the few hours Hope had spent with him had done much to reassure that her judgment had not failed. In the midst of her isolation, she found some comfort in realizing that her judgment had not failed her. In her letters to him, trapped in the midst of her own isolation, she had bared her own stark loneliness to not only his eyes, but her own, while exposing his own loneliness to his eyes. She had been fearful of the possible consequences of what she had come to see as 'her mission', her efforts to pull this one man back from the edge of a darker unknown. In doing so, she had also come to realize she was accomplishing the same mission for herself. The unsettling picture it revealed of her own bleak state of affairs prodded her on even more. Her quest to save him had morphed into a search for her own salvation and deliverance.

* * *

Visions materialized from the darkness of his coffee, the images of the night before pushed to the surface of his memory before dissolving in the mist of steam rising from the cup. He just kept seeing it; he couldn't help but see it. It was there for anyone to see. It was in her eyes, it was in the tone of her voice. There was no denying that it had been there. He had been offered a gift of tenderness. Why or how it had come to him, he didn't understand. She didn't know him, couldn't know about him. Couldn't know how desperately he longed to be valued. He had also seen a flash of recognition, recognition that they shared a sad truth – they seemed to be traveling on the same road - one of silence, of darkness and of loneliness – she had not traveled as long or as far down that road. The questions that hung over them, were of course obvious. Was it too late for him to turn back? The only certainty in the equation was the fact that he wanted to, no, he needed to see her again. The terrifying variable was whether she was willing to see him, now that they had finally met.

He was stunned to realize that he was near hyperventilating. The phone continued to ring in his ear as he consciously slowed his breathing. He had stared at the business card she had pressed into his palm as he left her, really only a few hours ago.

_ Hope Thornton_  
Associate Editor

Hudson Publishing.

Written on the back in the blue-black iridescent pen was her cell phone number. There were very few more obvious indications that she was willing to see him again; a willingness to see if more awaited them than this uncommon introduction.

* * *

"Hello… Hope Thornton." She was startled by the ringing phone, and that surprised her. She would have wagered that her thoughts were so scattered and all over the place that she wouldn't have been able to focus on the manuscript she was reading.

"Good morning, Hope. It's Bobby. Bobby Goren."

Nervous now, she smiled into the phone, she said, "I ... I did recognize your voice, I knew which Bobby this was. Good morning." She would have remembered his soft, quiet voice, even if she'd had to wait another 30 years before she heard it again.

"You know more than one?"

"Actually… no, I don't. You're the only one."

"So…" he began. He didn't know how to continue.

As the silence continued, Hope ventured in, "So… um… well… last night was..."

"Yeah, last night was..." Bobby stared at the carpet as he tried to think of a way out of this hole. "Well, that's kind of why I called. I thought there might be more to… that we could continue with that conversation… or ... or start a different one. Sometime. Maybe later… today?"

As his mind raced to counter any protest she might offer, he became aware that the short pause he'd been expecting was extending into an uncomfortable silence.

"Hope, are you still there?" Bobby asked apprehensively. He stood and began pacing around the apartment.

"Yes, yes I'm still here. I'm sorry. I… I…"

Crestfallen, he tried to let her off the hook, graciously, "That's all right, I realize this was short notice and… maybe I shouldn't have called..."

"No, no, that's not what I meant." She interrupted him. She realized her palms were sweating when she nearly dropped the phone. "I… I'd like to… I'm just still feeling a little awkward and embarrassed by …" that I've fallen in love with a complete stranger.

"By… by the letters?" Bobby asked as he switched the phone to his other hand, having just wiped it free of sweat on the leg of his jeans.

"Yes, I suppose so, among other things." She stood and started pacing around her office. "They… in the light of day they seem such a Harlequin romance kind of thing to do …" she didn't know how to continue and she let the sentence trail off.

Leaning his forehead onto the cool glass of a window, he hoped the chill would seep into his feverish thoughts, "Do… are you sorry that you … wrote them?" He asked hesitantly. _Please... please say no. _

So quietly did she reply, he barely heard her response, "N…no. I'm not sorry."

As his heart began to beat again, Bobby pressed, "Then have lunch with me. Meet me for coffee. Anything. I have questions…"

_Ohmigod, he has questions! I don't have answers... all I have are my own questions._ Not seeing a way out, and not really wanting to see one, she stammered, "My… my schedule is pretty open today or even tomorrow. Um, when were you thinking?" Silently, she amended the _today_ to _everyday_. There had been an absolute lack of activity on her social calendar of late. Again, _late_ equaling a somewhat qualified time frame, in this particular instance, a time frame extending to almost three years now.

"Now. I was thinking now." Bobby blurted out. "If that's not a problem…"

Hope stopped the pacing she had begun as soon as she answered her phone, and sank slowly down onto the small sofa in her office. She was feeling lightheaded, so much so that she feared she might pass out, but she continued, "Come down whenever you're ready. You'll have to sign in with the guard downstairs, I'll… I'll call down to let him know to expect you, and he'll show you the way up."

"How 'bout we say in an hour? Um… around 11:30?"

"See you soon, then." Hope agreed.

As Bobby let the hand the held his cell phone fall onto the sofa, he leaned back against the cushion and stared up at the ceiling, placing his other hand on his chest so he could feel the rapid beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest.

_So, the rumor that he was still alive, seemed to be true._ It had been so long since he'd felt hopeful about any aspect of his life, that this sudden revelation of Hope and exhilaration bordered on outright optimism.

* * *

As Hope flipped her phone closed, her heart leaped into her throat and she found it difficult draw a breath. She had no one to blame but herself. What had she thought would happen when she started her letter writing campaign? What had she wanted to happen when she started her letter writing campaign? Wasn't it a scene similar to last night's or a phone call like this in the back of her mind all along? Now that it was starting to happen, she was fighting down her inclination to slam closed the door she opened.

............. Chapter 3 Coming Soon .............


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hope was one of only a few editors and assistants in the offices of Hudson Publishing on this Saturday, the quiet on the fifteenth floor was a stark contrast to its normal commotion. So quiet, she would have been able to hear the soft _ding_ of the elevator as it arrived, even if she hadn't jumped up from her desk when the guard called to say her 'friend was on the way up' and been halfway to the door. Taking a deep breath to calm her jittery nerves, she put on what she hoped was a calm, welcoming smile on her face, and walked out of her office to greet Bobby. Despite her nervousness, she was excited to see him again.

She stopped in her tracks at the sight of him and her breath once again caught in her throat. In the space of just a few hours, she seemed to have forgotten what he looked like, when just yesterday she could have described him to anyone, his image burned into her memory. She noticed several differences immediately in just his posture and his attire. These last few months spent watching him, especially those first months, she had seen him wearing suits and ties. Almost over night, she had witnessed a decline of customary concern about his appearance. His attire changed drastically, and unless he had several of the exact same shirt, he'd taken to wearing the same one almost daily. Shaving became an even more hit or miss proposition. There were times when he looked almost slovenly. Today though, the jeans he wore were well-fitting and his blue shirt, with its long sleeves rolled up to the elbow. While still casual, he looked good. Actually he looked great. He'd even shaved. There was more to it than his clothes, for the first time in weeks, in months, his eyes revealed more than a dull, personal ache. As if a lamp had been turned on inside, his eyes now sparkled with light.

With her hand pressed against her stomach to keep the butterflies from escaping, she walked towards him. Hoping to fake a calm that she didn't possess, she continued out to greet him.

Riding up in the elevator, his heart had been racing, now it was skipping beats, the staccato rhythm even more unsettling. She was just as he remembered. Bobby watched her walk towards him. Her auburn hair was thrown back behind her shoulders. She wore a long sleeve white shirt, with a long multi-colored stripe scarf wrapped around her neck, jeans and boots.

"I hope I'm not too early. I didn't realize how close this place is to our apartment building." He said as they walked towards her office.

"No, not too early at all." She admitted, "Since you called, I kind of lost my motivation…" She snuck a sidelong glance at him to find that he was watching her, as a smirk of amusement touched those full lips – which is when she stumbled.

His hand reached out to steady her, his touch reassuring – the simple contact a reminder that it had been too long since she'd allowed anyone close enough to save her from falling on her face.

"Are you all right?" Concern laced his words more than she would have thought possible.

Once again, feeling flustered, she hastily stepped up to her desk, "Yes, I'm fine... loose carpet. Let… let me just straighten up here a little and then we can go. Come in and sit down, it won't take me very long."

"Take your time. Don't mind me." Bobby wandered over to a set of bookshelves filled with the Hudson Publishing imprint. Pulling out one and leafing quickly through it, while glancing at the titles of several others, he asked, "Did you edit any of these?"

"Oh, don't I wish! No, those are merely for show, to ease the jitters of uneasy writers. I work with mostly first time writers and they're usually nervous types. Those books lend the illusion that I might really know what I'm doing, rather than that I just love to read." She joked.

Bobby turned to face her and froze as his gaze landed on the credenza behind her desk. Pictures of her family, he assumed. Several sent a chill through him. One showed Hope laughing up into the face of a man about her age, and another with the same man, this time with a young child about 4 years old. There was an easy inference here, an easy conclusion and it was tragedy. He knew alone when he saw it, he was the poster boy for alone and he knew Hope Thornton was alone.

As Bobby sat, Hope continued to busy herself with clearing her desktop. "What?" Hope happened to glance up and found him smiling. Her heart contracted at the sight.

Bobby waved his hand indicating her note covered pages - the post-its dangling from the edges of pages. "Oh, it's the post-its. I do the same thing. Between the two of us, we're probably keeping the company in business."

Hope laughed, "I love post-its. They're the greatest things _ever_. I've found it easier than keeping a notebook around and then having to refer back to the book later anyway. This way I make little notes constantly. When I finish I'm able to go back, expand on my thoughts and write up my recommendations."

"Makes sense," Bobby admitted as he nodded, "But 'the greatest thing ever'?" Bobby asked.

"Absolutely! I stand by my emphatic comment and… and don't mock." She laughed as she reached behind her to grab jacket off the back of the chair. "I can't help it if I'm very enthusiastic about post-its." She came around the desk and leaned against its edge as she said, "Well, I'm ready."

"I would never mock anyone's enthusiasm… especially about post-its. I'm a post-it and notebook man, myself." He replied solemnly. Pushing himself up, he was mere inches away from her. Sensing her unease, and her sharp intake of breath, he stilled his hand and fought the temptation to reach out to touch her hair, He breathed in the slight scent of almond and vanilla as she slid past him towards the door. Mentally shaking himself, he followed her out of the office.

"Well, it sounded like mocking to me." Hope said as she grinned back at him as he past her.

"Yeah, that might have been." Bobby conceded, grinning as he walked past her so that she could lock her door. As he did, he saw the photos of Hope and her family again. The images in those photos seemed to be mocking him.

* * *

Hope fixed her gaze on the carpet as the elevator doors slid closed, wondering at the sudden stillness emanating from Bobby. She and Bobby had been joking one minute, and in the next he'd grown quiet. As the doors slid open, Bobby held the door for her, letting her precede him out of the elevator. As she walked through the open doors, he lightly placed his hand on her back. She nearly jumped at the tingle that ran up and down her spine.

"Calling it a day, Ms. Thornton?" Alan, the security guard asked as he looked up from his magazine.

"Yes, I think that's it for today, Alan." Hope signed out, jotting down the time before handing the pen over to Bobby.

"Well, the sun broke through the clouds about an hour ago, should be a nice afternoon for… whatever." He glanced back and forth between the two. He knew a first date when he saw one.

Hope felt her face flush and she busied herself by searching her bag for her sunglasses.

"Thanks," Bobby said as he handed the man the pen. "You have a good one yourself."

The guard nodded once as the two walked out the door and towards the car that Alan had checked out minutes ago.

* * *

Alan Jeffries had worked security at Hudson Publishing since 'putting his twenty in' in the Army and that had been ten years ago. As Hope Thornton and her friend left the building, he reached into his jacket for his wallet. Removing the slip of paper from behind his rarely used social security card, he reached for the phone and dialed. He knew the number, he just felt more secure holding it when making this call.

It was three years ago, when he'd first been approached about helping with a special project; he'd been told what was expected of him for the extra $100.00 a week he was going to receive. All he had to do was call in the name of every one who came to see Hope Thornton. It didn't matter if the person had been to see her 100 times or just once – every visitor – period, no exceptions.

As the phone was answered, a mechanically altered voice demanded, "Contact number please."

"H1625T." As always he wasn't sure whether he was speaking to a real human being or a computer simulated voice.

_"H1625T"_ The voice repeated. _"Visitor's name?"_

"Goren, Bobby. Most likely, full name Robert."

Once again, the voice repeated the information Alan provided. _"Any additional information?"_

"As far as I know this is the initial contact here. New York license plate, SFV 392."

_"Additional information, initial contact, New York license plate, SFV 392. Anything else sir?"  
_  
"No that's it."

_"Your information has been logged and we thank you for calling. Have a good day, sir."  
_  
Alan shook his head as he stared at the phone, momentarily listening to the buzzing dial tone. Even with the "Have a good day, sir" sentiment tacked on at the end, he still didn't know if he'd spoken with a real person. As he hung up the phone, he once again wondered why anyone would want information like this on a woman like Hope Thornton. She was a nice enough woman but only an associate editor of second-rate fiction at a second-rate publishing company. For an additional $100.00 a week, it really didn't matter to him, and he rarely questioned why, but today he experienced a momentary curiosity. Quickly dismissing any doubt about his involvement he settled back into his chair, returning to the magazine he'd been reading earlier.

………… Chapter 4 – hopefully not a long wait ……………


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As they left the building, Hope noticed the day had turned sunny and bright and she fished around in her bag for her sunglasses. Finding them she turned and began to ask, "So… that restaurant…"

Bobby brusquely interrupted, "If you're not too hungry yet. How about going for a little drive?" Bobby pointed to his car.

"Um… no. That would be nice. Seeing how it's turned out to be such a sunny morning."

"Let me take down the top and we'll see what we can do about clearing out some of the cobwebs." Bobby walked over to the curb, stopped at his car, and began to unlock the ragtop from the body of the car.

Shocked, Hope began throwing questions out at him, "A convertible mustang? What, it's a '67 or '68? Ni-ice restoration work."

Bobby grinned as he shook his head, "'66. You know cars?"

Shaking her head she admitted, "No, not really, my brother. He… he was really into cars. I picked up a few things."

"Oh, and where was that?" Bobby looked out the side mirror and back over his shoulder before pulling away from the curb.

"Is this the beginning of an interrogation, detective? But, that would have been in St. Louis. My father worked at Anheuser-Busch." Hope smiled as Bobby turned back to face her. She had meant the comment to come out light and teasing, but she sensed he hadn't taken it that way.

"Um… sorry, occupational hazard, I guess." Bobby accelerated and maneuvered his way into the flow of traffic.

Trying to smooth over this little bump, she jumped in, "No, it's fine. I mean… we don't know each other's history. How are we going to find out if we don't ask, right?" Hope reached out and tapped his forearm as he shifted gears.

She realized they were heading uptown and when Bobby glanced her way again, she shouted, "Where are we going?"

His brown eyes twinkled back in merriment as he shouted, "Wait and see. It'll be fun." At her puzzled expression, he nodded at her and mouthed, "Trust me."

She watched him for a moment before offering him a nod in return. She settled back into the seat and resolved to let the day and events she'd set in motion reveal themselves.

* * *

Hours later, Hope leaned back, stretched allowing herself to slide down into the comfort of the passenger seat. She was even tempted to let her eyes slip closed. It had been a long day after a late night with very little sleep. She felt drained, emotionally and physically. If the last couple of years had taught her anything, it was that life was a series of random moments connected by yet other random moments. Those moments were ours to be remembered, to be forgotten, or to be left behind. She wanted to be able to remember every moment of today. No longer, was she going to let the moments of her life be cast aside.

Risking a glance over at Bobby, she watched his hands on the steering wheel. He must have sensed her scrutiny, as it wasn't long before he turned towards her, a shy grinning smile splitting his face.

"Tired?" he asked, knowing the answer. Her body language was a testimony to the extent of her tiredness; the way she sat slumped down in the seat, her head lolling to the side -watching him – as if her neck muscles were no longer able to support its weight.

"Are you listening to me?" he teased, only scant seconds later, when she didn't answer him. For the last fifty yards, she'd had that impression. And now his latest question hung in the air, waiting for a reply.

Shaken out of her daze, "Yes, yes I'm listening." Mentally shaking herself, she hadn't answered him immediately because she was thinking he had the most beautiful hands she'd ever seen.

"You asked if I was 'tired'. And yes, I am. Aren't you?"

"Honestly?" Bobby glanced back at the road before answering. "I think we walked all 843 acres of Central Park. I'm exhausted!"

Hope broke out laughing, "Oh, thank you! I was beginning to feel like such a wimp."

The afternoon had been a revelation. Hope had noticed small changes in both their demeanors – a lightening of moods, easiness growing between them. Words were spoken with new meaning, with new intonation. There were other hints - some as light as a touch, an accidental brushing of hands.

She felt her guard slipping. Even though earlier today, she had used the word "love" to herself when she thought about Bobby - even then aware that she didn't know him well enough to actually love him - she did feel that for the first time in a very long time, she felt a measure of comfort she hadn't let herself feel for years.

* * *

As Bobby slowed the car at an intersection, he reached over to massage the back of her neck. As his hand brushed the scarf around her neck, she pulled back. He didn't miss the flicker of panic flash across her face. She recovered quickly and smiled back at him, and reached up and gently pulled his hand down, grasping it in both of hers and gently tracing circles on the back of it.

Raising her gaze, she asked, "How about I fix us something to eat, instead of going to your restaurant?"

"Are you sure?" They both knew they weren't talking about dinner.

She nodded as she brought his hand up to her lips to kiss its palm. "Are you?"

Bobby looked for any sign of hesitancy in her eyes, finding none he leaned over and kissed her, kissed her until the driver behind them tapped on his car's horn. Grinning with embarrassment, Bobby hit the gas and they sped through the intersection.

Minutes later, they were exiting the parking garage across the street from their apartment building. As they crossed the street, neither of them noticed the black sedan or the two men inside who watched their progress from up the street. As the two entered the apartment building, one of the men got out of the car to follow them inside.

The man entered the building to see them waiting for the elevator. He casually walked over to the mail boxes, while watching to see which elevator the two took. Once they got on a car, he left the building and pulled open the passenger door of the black sedan, which had now pulled up in front of the building. "They went up to her apartment." He said as he settled back into his seat.

"I think we can assume they're in for the night." His partner chuckled as he reached for his radio to call in.

* * *

Once the elevator doors closed, she stepped closer, her fingers twining with his. One feminine fingertip rubbed gently to his, and she tilted their hands into the light. Hands joined – she could almost believe it to be the most beautiful sight in the world.

She could feel his reaction. The rough catch in his breath, as he accepted that this moment was indeed happening. The weight of his gaze upon her, as intense any she'd ever felt.

Tentatively, as if a decision had been made, then remade, all within the span of only seconds, his other hand rose slowly, coming to rest gingerly around the curve of her head. One thumb caressed her cheek, and her eyes closed so serenely. So blissfully.

Her head leaned to his palm ... a tilt of no greater extent than those he often made with the mask. But the weight within his hand, the trust inherent in the action, was an expression unto itself. And he knew - he knew - just how appreciated his own advances would be.

With equal care he untangled his fingers from hers, moving instead to cup her face. A cradle was made, woven of two strong hands, and he leaned slowly ... gradually ... closer.

A brush of her nose with his own, that carried within it an invitation and a request. Waiting.

She took a step forward, tempted to risk a touch of his arm; stopped not by fear, but by her own sense of guilt.

His second hand rose to her back, spanning between her shoulder blades - holding her with a new permission. A new confidence. And he leaned closer…

Chapter 5 hopefully won't take long to work through....


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Chapter 5

It was 8 o'clock, Monday morning and Alex Eames had just stepped off the elevator onto the 11th floor of One Police Plaza. She expected to see her partner already at his desk, hard at work, sloughing his way through the mountains of paperwork that the arrest and eventual confession of the girlfriend of a congressional aide, for his death.

Alex knew better than most, not to 'expect' a certain course of action from her partner. If she'd learned anything from working with Bobby all these years, was never to assume anything, ever – in a case, or with him. It was still surprising that all that greeted her when she reached her desk, was her partner's empty desk.

Risking a quick glance towards the Captain's office, she was relieved to see that Ross was alone. At least she didn't have to worry about another complication between those two. Alex removed her jacket and sat down, momentarily staring at the empty desk of her partner. It was a sight that sent chills down her spine. She sighed, wondering what trouble Bobby was getting into now. Not even able to guess, she reached for the first folder on her desk and flipped it open.

"Morning Eames." Bobby said as he flipped open his notebook. She hadn't even noticed him slide into his chair across from her.

Glancing at her watch, she smirked as she replied, "Don't you mean afternoon?"

Bobby's head popped up and a genuine look of confusion greeted her. "What? What are you talking about? It's only 8 o'clock."

"And on any other normal 8 o'clock Monday morning, you've usually been in for a couple of hours. I've never known you to just be on time." Alex watched him, watched for his reaction.

Giving nothing away, he merely shook his head and stood, asking as he started to walk away, "Do you want some coffee?"

Shaking her head, she admitted, "I'm still working on this one." She grabbed her cup and sipped the still hot contents. Watching him as he crossed the room, she found herself wondering about his weekend. Had he discovered more about his mysterious letter writer? Somehow, she thought he had. She didn't find it a comforting thought.

Hours later, the two detectives stood in Captain Ross's office as he flipped through the case file. "This was good work, you two. Send it over to the DA's office." Ross handed the file back to Alex. "Why don't you two take the rest of the day."

"Thanks Captain." Alex glanced over at Bobby as she answered for the team. She knew the signs of his preoccupation better than anyone, he was chomping at the bit to get out of here today. He was always a bit more fidgety when confined to the office, but today had been even worse than normal. She was convinced she knew the reason why, but there was yet a little investigating to do before she would be safe in 'assuming' that, before she would sit him down and have a cautionary talk with him.

The two detectives stood and left their Captain's office. Bobby quickly set to clearing off his desk, putting everything in its place. As Alex stood watching, she repeatedly slapped the folder against her thigh. Finally daring to break the silence, and broached the topic that had had her biting her tongue all morning.

"One, you're in an awful hurry to get out of here – that's fairly unusual for you. Two, you were late this morning..." Bobby's head popped up, mouth open. "and before you say anything, 8:00 o'clock is late – for you. Years of detective work have taught me to recognize a change in patterns, a change in behavior."

Bobby looked at his hands, now clasped, his interlaced fingers resting on the top of his desk. He knew what was coming. _If she wants to play this game…fine. I can play along, but for only so long._ "A change of pattern and behavior? Then Detective, based on your 'years of detective work', what would you most likely attribute this 'change in pattern, change of behavior' to?"

"At a guess - and at this point, that's all I can do - but I'd say that you'd discovered more about your your mysterious letter writer is. Like, who she is." Even though her comments were statements, both knew that all she was doing was ... fishing.

Bobby sat silently for a moment before acknowledging her comments with a small nod, "Her name is Hope Thornton."

Alex sat down, stunned. "You've met her?" Even though this is was she suspected, it was still not what she expected to hear. With anyone else, that wouldn't make sense, but with Bobby Goren...

"Yes. Friday night. I went to her apartment. I saw her again on Saturday and Sunday. The whole weekend. And hopefully again tonight." He admitted quietly.

"Bobby…" She knew she hadn't been successful in keeping the note of concern out of her voice. Bobby was so alone - a little lost, a little vulnerable, a little fragile. All of which seemed at odds with the man's physical presence, but it was there. While the exchange of letters had seemed mostly harmless, so far, there was still that element of stalker-ish behavior that greatly concerned her. Frankly she was mystified at Bobby's casualness about this. Both had seen too many examples of what could happen given a set of similar circumstances.

"I know what you're going to say, but really, don't worry. I have thought this through. I thought it through before I ever went over to her place. There's nothing to worry about." Bobby stood as he continued, "It's okay, Eames. I'll see you tomorrow." Standing he looked over at her. "You're going to have to trust me on this, Eames. It's under control."

Realizing she had no hope of stopping him, knowing nothing she could say would stop him, she pressed her lips together, bit her tongue and nodded. "Yeah, okay... I'll see you tomorrow."

Alex slumped down onto her chair, arms on her desk. Leaning forward, she nestled her chin into her upturned palm, as she watched her partner's progress to the elevator. As he disappeared from her sight, she reached for her phone. Fingers drumming on the receiver, she realized she didn't know when she'd first made the conscious decision to call asking for his help, but she had already told him to expect her call, somehow knowing that she was going to need the help. The last bit of her hesitance vanished as she picked up the receiver and dialed...

Ira welcomed the distraction of the ringing telephone, the tedium that had been his latest work project - one that had been ongoing for the last several days - broken, if only for a moment.

"Whipple." He acknowledged as he spoke into the receiver.

"Ira, it's Eames. I have a name for you - Hope Thornton. I need you to work your magic with that computer of yours and find out everything you can about her. From the day she was born all the way through to tomorrow. Everything. And I need it now."

"It's going to take awhile, detective. I do actually have a job to do around here, too." Ira looked at his empty desk, and then to the stack of reports on the floor reaching up to the top of his desk, secretly glad that Detective Eames had called. Otherwise, he'd be reduced to mindless data entry work, re-entering a years' worth of ComStat reports and analysis that had somehow vanished from the data file on the master frame. He'd much rather work on Eames' mysterious case.

"Then get your buddy, Simmons to help you…" _Two computer geeks were better than one._ She realized she was asking a lot, and while she didn't want to get anyone in trouble, this did have the possibility of blowing up in her face. She didn't want to feel responsible for anyone else's reprimands or worse, firings. But she knew she had to see this through and there was no turning back. Both these guys had helped Bobby once before, and no one had found out about their "helping". Someone had to look out for her partner, and he'd made it perfectly clear over the years, that in certain situations, he wasn't any good at looking out for himself. If not her, then who?

"Text me anything you find as soon as you get it, no matter how small. I'd rather get it piecemeal, than not get anything until you've found everything. I need this to be an organized, comprehensive, but quickly compiled set of facts. But I still need everything. As soon as possible."

As soon as Eames hung up, Ira reached for his personal laptop. Whatever this was about, he felt sure that he didn't want anyone being able to trace anything back to his NYPD computer. He booted up the search program that he'd written and began typing, H – O – P – E, into the search field and hit ENTER.

While he waited for the first bit of data to pop up, he picked up the phone and dialed Josh's extension, "Hey, Josh, it's Ira. You up to your neck on anything?"

"Kinda… I'm pulling financials in the Richard Knox case. It looks like there might be an insurance angle to it – 'key man' policy. You see, his partner had just taken... "

Ira cut him off, Josh could get so excited about following the trail, he didn't always know when to stop talking. "Eames called, with a name. Needs her whole history ASAP."

Ira knew that Knox had been a Broadway producer who'd be found dead during the opening night performance of a new play he'd been backing. He also knew that it was Logan's case, which meant it was Detective Falacci's as well. She wouldn't be shy about saying anything if she had to wait longer for results than she deemed necessary.

"Eames called, with a name. Needs her whole history ASAP."

"What's the case? I can work in a search as long as she doesn't need a full briefing about what it means." Josh waited for an answer.

Slowly, it dawned on him. "There's no case, is there Ira?" Even though he couldn't see his friend, he knew he was shaking his head 'no'. _What was it about Goren and Eames? _

Looking at the piles of reports on his desk, Josh took a deep breath before replying, "Give me an hour, I'll be down to see you." After he hung up, he realized, Ira had never answered his question.

............Chapter 6 - should be coming soon .................


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The soft _tap-tap-_tap at her office door snapped Hope out of her reverie. Looking up she saw her assistant standing in the door frame, rummaging through her handbag. Flustered, she stammered, "Y-yes, Claudia, what is it?"

"A couple of us are going over to the deli across the street for lunch, I was wondering if I could bring you back something to eat?"

_Lunch? What time is it?_ Hope snuck a glance at her watch – it was almost one o'clock. Over four hours at work and she'd read only a dozen pages of the manuscript lying open on her desk.

"Sure… sure that … that would be great. Here, let me …" Hope reached into her desk drawer and pulled out her on handbag. She found a $20 and handed it over to Claudia, "… I think I'd like their vegetarian sandwich on multi grain and a Diet Coke. Take … take your time though, no hurry. Enjoy your lunch."

Claudia watched her boss, as curious about her today as she had been since that first day, now over three years ago. Hope had come to Hudson Publishing unexpectedly starting as an assistant editor. While Hope had always been a little distant, she wasn't unfriendly, but reserved and very private. She just didn't seem to join in any of the social activities in the office and she never spoke of family or friends. She had a couple of pictures in her office, but they were the same ones that she'd brought when she arrived. Not a new one in the bunch. Claudia liked working for Hope though, she was a thoughtful boss and really very kind, just uninvolved, not quite a part of her environment.

"Say, Hope… is everything all right? You know, It's just that recently I've noticed that you've been a little distracted… not... not quite yourself."

"Really, not quite myself?" she asked, voice pitched slightly higher than normal. _And just who is 'myself'?_ she asked herself, before answering Claudia's question. "Everything's fine. I … I suppose I have been a little distracted, but … well, it's nothing to worry about."

"If you're sure… because you know… if you need someone to… "

The ringing of the phone broke through Claudia's comments.

Hope jumped in, "Everything's fine, really. I … I appreciate the offer…. Look, I'll get that." Hope walked back towards the desk and the phone. "You… you should get going, you don't want to keep the others waiting." Making a shooing motion with her hands, she added, "Go… go. Enjoy your lunch."

"Okay, I won't be long. I'll be back with your lunch before you know it."

"Thanks, Claudia."

As Claudia turned and started to walk away, she heard her boss answer the phone, "Hope Thornton..."

* * *

_"Hope Thornton…"_ Just the sound of her voice, was responsible for the smile that spread across his lips, reaching up to his eyes. "Hello, Hope Thornton. This is Robert Goren."

"Hi, this is a nice surprise." She was sure that he could hear the smile in her voice. "I was just thinking about you." Okay, so she'd been thinking about him all day. In the almost four hours at work, she'd plowed through less than a dozen pages of a new manuscript, and couldn't remember a single word.

"Look, I know it's kind of late for lunch, but I just got the rest of the day off…" He let the suggestion hang in the air, as he finished his thought. …_and I'd really like to see you._

"Well, this is great timing, I haven't eaten yet." Already forgotten was the vegetarian sandwich that Claudia was bringing back.

"I'll pick you up, in say twenty minutes?" Bobby turned the key in the ignition.

"Okay, I'll meet you out front." Hope's heartbeat quickened. She remembered feeling giddy like this in high school, when she'd first started dating. That had been a long time ago and a lot had happened since then, and she never expected to feel like this ever again. Yet, she was.

* * *

Claudia and her friend Monica were returning from the deli, approaching the building when she saw Hope walk out the door. She watched her boss look up and down the street, a big smile quickly breaking out across her face as her attention was drawn to the honking of a horn. Claudia turned to see a tall man getting out of a car and coming around to open the passenger door. As Hope walked up, his hand slid around her waist as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips. She watched as she saw her 'distant' boss reach up and caress his cheek.

"Claudia…"

Hearing her name, Claudia turned toward the voice.

"I asked, wasn't that Hope getting into that car?" Monica repeated.

"Yeah, I think it was."

"Come on girl, dish… Who's the guy?"

"I… I don't know. I guess maybe he's why that she's seemed a little out of it lately. I… I never would have guessed that there was … someone."

"Yeah, she doesn't really send out those kinds of signals. But, hey… good for her. Looks like your afternoon might just have been freed up. You want to help me catch up on my filing?"

"Why would I want to help you catch up on your filing? I have pages of notes to type up for Hope."

Shrugging, Monica continued, "Well, if you won't help me, will you at least share Hope's sandwich with me? I doubt she'll be coming back for it today and I'm still hungry."

The two looked at each other and broke out laughing.

* * *

Bobby drove them to one of his favorite restaurants, Sal's. When they entered the small establishment, Bobby was warmly greeted. "Bobby… we don't see you here for lunch very often. In fact, I think it's been a long time since we've seen you for dinner too. Let's see about getting the two of you seated."

"Hi Veronica. You're right, it's been awhile since I've been here. I've missed it." Bobby admitted.

"So, you're a regular here?" Hope asked. "You bring all your dates here?"

"Oh, I don't think I've ever seen Bobby here with anyone before. He usually comes in by himself." Veronica winked, letting both know she was joking.

"You don't have to cover for me, Veronica."

"Well, then.... let me tell you about Bobby. It used to be a different girl every night of the week."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" The woman joked right back.

Seeing Bobby's embarrassed grin and the woman's big open smile, Veronica added to herself,_ "until now"_. She laughed and said, "I'll send Miranda over to get your drink orders.

Eggplant parmigiana and wine were ordered, delivered and the few remains quickly taken away. The meal passed mostly in silence, with Bobby sitting back, watching and waiting. Even though he believed she'd been happy to see him when he picked her up, he noticed that a distance had grown between them. She'd been staring into her wineglass for a while, when their check arrived.

Bobby thanked Miranda and pulled out his credit card. "I'll be right back with your receipt."

"So…" Bobby began, the word breaking through Hope's contemplation. "… do you have to get back to work?"

Hope smiled back, "No, not really. Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing. I just thought… maybe… we could just hang out?" He saw the expression on her face freeze. "But, if you'd rather not, I can have you back at work…" The waitress slipped the receipt and credit card on the table.

Before he could finish, she was shaking her head 'no'. "No, I'd like to hang out. It's … it's just kind of complicated, it should be so easy, but it isn't." The hostess and waitress' attitude towards Bobby had shaken her. She was beginning to wonder about Bobby. Wonder about what she had done. Bobby had seemed so alone, but what if he really wasn't? What if everything she'd written to him had nothing to do with 'saving' him? What if it had all been about saving herself? Now, if she began to question her motivation, should she be questioning his?

Bobby leaned back in his chair, "Complicated? Complicated how? With work or with…" For the first time warning bells went off and he remembered what he'd told Eames, _I've thought this through… _Maybe he had, but what about Hope? Had she? She had probably never thought that he would track her down from her letters.

Hope laid her hand on top of his. He could see her trying to come up with an explanation. "I … I … " she choked back a sob.

"Look, we don't have to get into this now. Let's, let's just get out of here." If they were anywhere other than a public place, he would have wrapped her up in his arms to comfort her. As it was all he did was place his other hand on top of hers.

Hope nodded, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Bobby stood and held the chair for her. As she continued to the door, he signed the receipt, picked up his credit card and joined her at the door, where she was thanking the hostess for the great service and food.

"Thank you. I hope you'll come back soon."

"I'd like that." Hope said as the two women watched Bobby approach.

"I'll make sure to tell Miranda how much you appreciated the service." Veronica said, loud enough to be heard by Bobby.

"I think the tip I added will get _that _point across." Bobby added as he came up behind Hope, placing his hands on her shoulders.

That's right, I forgot, Detective Robert Goren - the last of the big-time tippers." The three laughed.

Hope reached out for his hand as they walked out. "Could we… could we go somewhere and just walk for a while?"

"Sure… sure whatever you want. We can go over to the park."

As he drove, she thought about what he'd said. _"…whatever you want." _ Now all she had to do was figure out exactly what that was and how to get it.

* * *

It was still early when Bobby dropped Hope off at her apartment. She didn't invite him in and he didn't ask. A gentle kiss and hug ended their day. As Bobby turned to walk away, he heard her softly say, "Thank you Bobby."

He turned back to her, "No… thank you Hope." Bobby turned and walked away, hearing the soft closing of the door.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

_Let me start out this chapter by saying, I know nothing about computers, so... if on the show, they can refer to 'defragmenting' the hard drive and equate that to erasing the files on said hard drive, as happened in "Blink" - hopefully you'll, the reader will be able to excuse my less than firm grasp on what's really going on with our computers and their operating systems. (You may not believe this but when I saved this page to a bunch of 'source code' type jargon began the post - if you read the chapter, I'm sure you appreciate the coincidence. :)  


* * *

_

Chapter 7

Ira and Josh fell into step with Alex outside One Police Plaza. Alex looked at the two disheveled and obviously tired men, "I know I said I needed everything and as soon as possible, but I really didn't mean for you two to work all night, Ira."

"Well, we didn't intend to, it just kind of happened that way. After the last text message we sent you last night, I got an idea and wanted to try it out, it was just out of curiosity …" Ira started.

Josh interrupted, "You don't know the half of what we found. You are not going to believe what we found. We found it - the smoking gun."

"What do you mean you found _"it"_? What smoking gun?" Dread rose up to choke her as she watched the exchange of looks between the two men.

"Once we found _it_, we couldn't stop, it was such a rush." The words tumbled from the excitable Joshua Simmons.

"Look, one of you is going to have to tell me what _"it"_ is - right now." Alex started to press for the answer.

Ira shot Josh an irritated look, silencing him. "I got the idea of looking a little deeper at the information we gave you from the project I've been working on." He could feel Eames silently hurrying him along. "Okay, I've helping re-enter the data that had been 'lost' when the mainframe crashed. Now some documents and files were still there and those that weren't we have to recreate and reinsert them into the proper sequence, their proper place."

Eames sighed, realizing she was in for a lecture about computers. But it seemed the least she could do in the circumstances. She tried to hide her disinterest in the process and let Ira speak.

Ira continued, "Now, when information is saved, it's encrypted in binary code and that code has a specific protocol attached to it to open the file into a readable format. That's basic computer programming. It's general practice of the NYPD to also encrypt is the date the information was created and saved.

"I've never done that with anything I've saved." Alex pointed out.

"It's in the programming, it runs in the background, most people are unaware of it. They save a document, they open the document. Presto. Magic." Josh contributed.

"But one of the bits of information saved, is the date the file was created. Now, I've been messing around with the code and I've cracked it. I have the ability to track down the exact date that information was stored on the mainframe."

"Now, this is where it gets interesting, detective." Eames could see that Josh was about to jump out of his skin in excitement.

"We went back to the information we found on Hope Thornton and I tried the program I used to crack our code…" Ira stopped, hoping Eames would see where he was headed with this.

"And…"

"And… we discovered the program worked on all the files we'd found on Hope Thornton." The two men exchanged self-satisfied looks, before Ira added, "She may have a history that goes back thirty-five years, but every bit of information has been created within the last three and a half years."

"Now it's feasible that some of the information has been reentered, just like we're doing with our files. Except … we have multiple sources, hospital records, school records, DMV, banks, etc., - you know the drill – all of her history was created in the space of a two-week period, almost four years ago. The three and a half year time frame dates back to her arrival here in New York."

"So, you found out that Hope Thornton is in Witness Protection."

"Or something like it." Josh added.

"What does that mean? 'Or something like it'." Alex shot sharp glances at the men.

"It isn't the Marshall's Program. It isn't even a U.S. government Program."

"Then, whose program is it?" Alex could feel her Starbuck's start to burn a hole in her stomach.

"Scotland Yard." Josh ventured, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"We're not sure. But it's from the Brits." Ira shot Josh an irritated look. "We have everything upstairs, we can go over it with you..."

Eames checked her watch. "Thanks fellas, I have to check in first. Give me about half an hour; I'll find a reason to come down to see you."

As Alex turned to walk into the building, she heard Ira hiss, "I told you, it has to be MI5 or MI6. If it was Scotland Yard, it would be the same as if NYPD had its own witness protection program."

* * *

This morning, Alex hoped to be greeted by the same sight as yesterday, that of her partner's empty desk. Unfortunately, her luck wasn't holding up. Bobby was already at his desk, going through a pile of paperwork.

"Morning, Detective." Captain Ross greeted her as the elevator doors slid open. He and Logan were getting on the elevator as she stepped off.

"Morning Captain, Logan." Eames distractedly offered a nod to the two men as she continued into the squad room. The two men exchanged a look between them that seemed to say, "That preoccupied greeting was more suited to her partner, than her."

Logan shook his head, "I'm not asking. You can if you want to. I'm out of it."

"That's how I wound up getting divorced. No Logan, some things just aren't worth it."

Logan grinned at the Captain as the elevator door slid closed. "I hear that, Captain."

"Morning Eames." Bobby recognized her step and turned to greet her. "I thought I'd put the natural order of things back in… well, their natural order. I came in at my usual time to keep our balance in place."

"Good morning, Bobby. It … That's very reassuring." She admitted with a hesitant smile. "What… uh, what are you working on?"

"Just clearing up some paperwork, now that they've fixed the glitch with the computers. It looks like it's Logan's turn in the crosshairs. Ross and Logan are on their way up to see the Chief," Bobby couldn't repress rolling his eyes at the thought of the Chief of Detectives. "The Captain requested that we wait around for him and update him on the Brewster case."

Alex's silence surprised Goren, he looked up and was surprised to see the dazed look on her face. "Alex, are you all right?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. She was staring at the empty desktop.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just have some thing I need to check." She picked up the phone receiver, and started to dial… _"cracked the code..." _Forgetting what number she dialed, she started again… _"created in the last three and a half years…"_

Slamming down the receiver, she declared, "I have to go downstairs. I'll be in records if Ross gets back before I do. Call me if he does."

Bobby warily looked up at her. "Okay, sure. Anything I need to know about what's going on in Records."

Alex shook her head, "No. No, I just need to check on something. I'll be right back."

"OK." Bobby returned to the report he was scanning through. "You'd better hope that you're back before Ross. I don't care how quickly you can get back here from Records."

Alex didn't hear a word he said, she was already gone.

* * *

Since her return from "records", Alex had been hiding out in an interview room, to avoid Bobby. She read and re-read the information Ira had given her. She found it all so incredible, even unbelievable. Only Bobby would have this kind of luck…

Alex was startled by knocking on the door of the interview room. Bobby cautiously entered, "The Captain just called. He's going to be tied up with the Chief through lunch, so it looks like we have free rein for a while. You feel like going down to D'Angelos and getting something to eat?" Studying her silence, he knew that whatever was bothering her was big. Closing the door, he sat down opposite her. "Are you all right? Has something happened?"

"Um… no. Everything's fine. Ah…" She knew she wasn't being very convincing when he reached across the table and put his hand on top of hers.

"Alex… what's going on? It has something to do with what's in that file, doesn't it? What is it?" Bobby asked gently as he nodded toward the file lying between them.

Alex looked down at the folder and then up at Bobby again, as she slowly slid the folder across to him. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. I felt I had to. I … I was concerned about you…"

Bobby knew where this was going and he knew what was in the folder. He obviously didn't know the specifics, but he knew the folder contained information on Hope. If the stricken look on her face was any indication, he knew that the pages inside the folder didn't contain good news. Bringing one hand up to cover his mouth, he slowly exhaled. His other hand pulled the folder closer to him before opening it.

* * *

Bobby stared at the words, unable to breathe, unable to make sense of the characters on the page, unable to raise his eyes to meet Alex's gaze. He drew another deep breath and tried to read the report. After several sentences he had to go back and start over, he hadn't comprehended any of what he'd just read. He kept his head down as he closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling repeatedly before opening his eyes again. He found he was still unable to read the report, but he allowed his eyes to roam the page and he discovered he was able to focus on random words and phrases.

"This is what? Ira's work. You got this from Ira…"

"And Simmons… I… I asked Ira to run Hope's background. Ira and Josh both worked on it. They're the only ones besides you and..." Bobby stared at her, his face emotionless. "Bobby, I was concerned about…"

"… about me." He finished her thought for her. "Always concerned about me. Always worried about me. I need to be watched." _He needed something…_

Bobby brought his hand up to cover his mouth. "I… I gotta get out of here." Bobby felt like he was going to suffocate. This was big picture stuff. He'd seen a lot in his life, he'd lived through a lot, but nothing… nothing like Hope had endured.

"Bobby…"

He raised both his hands to stop her. "No, Eames. Not now. Don't. Just don't. I need to think." Bobby turned and walked out of the room, across to the elevator. When the elevator doors didn't open fast enough for him, he turned and pushed open the emergency door to the stairwell and began his descent.

* * *

................Chapter 8........ Coming Soon, I hope..............

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"_Excuse me_, _you can't just go in there…"_ Hope started to come around her desk as soon as she heard Claudia's raised voice. She had almost reached the door when a sharp peremptory knock quickly followed its being slammed open.

It was Bobby. Blocking the doorway, leaving no entrance for anyone, leaving no exit for Hope.

Alarmed and concerned, Hope continued to come forward, tentatively. "Bobby? What… what's wrong?"

Bobby walked over to the chair he'd sat in the other day. _Was it really only four days ago?_ he wondered. It felt like it was much longer. He stood staring at the chair.

"Hope, should I call securi –" Claudia began, realizing he reminded her of the man she'd Hope getting to the car with yesterday.

"No, Claudia. It's… it's all right." Hope assured her. "We'll be fine. Please, just close the door. I'll let you know if I need anything." Bobby had taken to pacing the width of the room, waves of emotion rolling from him, flooding the room and engulfing everyone in its wake.

Claudia stood her ground, uncertain and unmoving, forcing Hope to get her attention. "Claudia…"

"Yes, all right, but I'll be… I'll be right out side." Claudia reached for the door and grabbed the doorknob, slowly and quietly closing the door. "Right outside." She repeated more forcefully.

Bobby glanced back at the door. "It's good that she looks out for you. Kind of like my partner. She's got your back."

"Well, yeah … I suppose you could say that." Hesitantly, she walked over to the desk and leaned against it, looking down at him. Trying to ease the tension in the room, she joked, "I find it's only a little less important for a book editor than a police officer. Unpublished writers are only slightly less dangerous than your average career criminal."

Hope didn't want to let on, but she was probably about as afraid as Claudia. Hope continued to watch Bobby as he paced. She sat on one of the chairs usually reserved for visitors. Hoping that her voice would sound calm and steady, she cautiously asked, "What's the matter, Bobby? What's happened?"

He stopped his pacing and turned to look at her and silently appraised her. He had been right about her, hadn't he? He was going to operate on the presumption that he had been. He had seen enough in the report to understand what she'd meant yesterday, when she'd said, it was complicated. How was he going to tell her he knew what her secret was? He wasn't even supposed to know that she had a secret. He didn't think that how he was going to do this was the best course - it certainly wasn't the kindest course - but he knew he had to break her first. He didn't see that he had a lot of options and he could feel time running out. One way or another, time was running out for both of them.

He found the picture he'd seen here the other day. Brushed nickel glinted dully from the overhead light as it framed the photograph of Hope, the unknown man and little girl. He stood, walked over to it, picked it up and showed it to her. "Who are these people, Hope?"

Hope had watched as he reached for the picture frame. "Why? What… what does it matter, you don't know them. They're…" Hope stammered, looking up at him. Seeing the resolve in his face, she stammered, "Well… that's me with my brother, Jack and… and his daughter."

"Your brother in St. Louis, right?" He asked.

She nodded.

"What's her name, Hope? What's your niece's name?"

He saw the color drain from her face now. As much as he hated himself for it, he continued to pressure her. "Come on, Hope. It shouldn't be a difficult question. Surely you know your niece's name."

Head down, she shook her head, no. In a voice that was barely a whisper, "Please… Bobby, don't do this."

She raised a shaky hand to brush back stray strands of hair as her gaze rose to look him in the eye.

He could see the pain in her eyes and hated to be the cause of it. But he needed to know 'the why' of her new identity. Ira and Josh may have found the footprints left by the creation of Hope Thornton's life story, but they hadn't included any reasons for it. He knew the clock was ticking and they wouldn't have much time. The search was sure to have raised red flags and it wouldn't be long before they had company.

"You can't have forgotten her name. What is her name, Hope?"

"Of… of course I haven't forgotten. I could ne… never forget her name. Her name wa… is Chloe." Tears of rolling down her cheeks and her heart was breaking all over again.

"No, no Hope. Chloe isn't the name of your niece. And this isn't a picture of your niece or your brother, is it? You don't have a niece, do you?"

Looking up at him, she felt her heart sinking. He knew… he knew. But how could he? No one did.

"I honestly don't know." She whispered.

"Why don't you know, Hope? Why don't you know if you have a niece?"

"I… I really don't want to get into… this is none of your business… I, I think you should just go… this is just a big mis…" She stammered as she tried to see a way out of this. She realized he must be very, very good at his job.

"No, there's no mistake, but there is a big problem. We don't have much time and I need you to tell me the truth if I'm going to help you." He said softly. "What was your name before it was Hope Quinn Thornton?"

"Oh God…. How? How? How did…" In her shock, the flow of tears stopped. "I don't know who the man or little girl are… just two people, models I assume." Her voice was flat, resigned. Although this was a major breach to her safety, she knew she didn't have anything to fear from Bobby.

He walked over to her slowly, sitting in the empty chair next to her. He didn't look at her, he didn't touch her. "I'm sorry, sorrier that you'll ever know, but we don't have the luxury of time. I needed to know if what my partner found out is true. They'll be here for you, soon. You have to decide right now, whether you want to remain Hope Quinn Thornton or whether you're going to let them take you out of here and give you another new name, another new history.

"What? What do you mean they'll be here soon? Why?" Hope started shaking and she started to hyperventilate…

* * *

The black sedan pulled up in front of Hudson Publishing. Alan Jeffries watched the two men as they walked through the lobby. He recognized the older of the two. He was the man who had approached him several years ago with an offer of money to keep tabs on Hope Thornton's visitors. When that Goren fellow stormed past him, he'd called in just as he always did. Never before though had a call brought anyone into the building.

The man he recognized came over to him, "Mr. Jefferies, is Hope Thornton still in the building." Jeffries had a bad feeling about this.

"Y-yes, I believe so." He stammered. "At least she hasn't passed me or that new boyfriend of hers. He stormed right past me right before I called. He didn't even sign in."

"And other than this way, how many other ways are there to leave the building?" Even though he already knew the answer was five, he asked the question.

Well, there's the parking garage. (Well, that's one, thought Agent Danforth-Hayes). Then there's the delivery dock. (Two). There are two emergency exits (Three and four.) And the lobby. (Five. Good boy Mr. Jeffries.)"

"Thank you Mr. Jefferies. And has Detective Goren left the building yet?"

"Detective Goren?" That surprised him. "No, no he's still here in the building."

Danforth-Hayes looked glanced over to his partner, "I doubt that."

With that, he nodded and the two men walked over to the elevator, leaving a very perplexed security guard to watch their exit. He decided right then, that now was the time to put in for his second retirement. This wasn't the harmless 'watching' he'd led himself believe.

When the elevator doors opened onto the fifteenth floor, the two men walked out into the aftermath of a panic. A large group was gathered around an office and the desk outside of it several doors down. As they approached, they overheard several overlapping comments.

_"What happened in there, Claudia..."_

_"I can't believe he just burst into her office like that…"_

_"Who is he…"_

_"I've never seen him before…"_

_"I wonder where they went…"_

_"Who would have ever thought quiet little Hope Thornton had drama in her life…"_

"Excuse me, please. Let us through." Danforth-Hayes pushed his way to the front until he was in front of the desk. He flipped his ID quickly, giving no one the opportunity to really see it. "What happened here?"

"I… I think my boss was forced to leave with her… her new boyfriend." Claudia paused as several around her nodded in agreement. "He definitely lead her out of the office. But I ... I suppose she might have gone with him voluntarily.

The agent reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a photo of Goren and Hope taken last weekend in Central Park, and showed it to the woman.

"Yes, yes… that's him. That's them."

"How long ago did they leave?"

"About twenty minutes ago, officers. I called 911 right after they left." Danforth realized the girl thought they were the police – if she'd called twenty minutes ago, they should be arriving any minute.

"Which way did they leave by?" He asked urgently.

Perplexed by the question, Claudia slowly answered, "They… they took the elevator."

"Thank you. We have other officers on the way; they should be arriving shortly. When they do, tell them exactly what you told us." Danforth and his partner quickly strode back to the elevator.

"What did he mean, _'Which way did they leave by?'_ We're on the fifteenth floor. What other way are they going to leave, but the elevator. What does he think they did, walk all the way down the stairs?" Claudia shook her head as everyone turned to watch the elevator doors close.

* * *

As the two men got into their car, Charles Danforth-Hayes turned to his partner, "Jamey, my boy. It's time to let Sir Nigel know that his daughter-in-law appears to be on the run."

Agent James Richardson nodded silently as he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb into the late morning traffic.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Hope and Bobby side-by-side, neither speaking nor looking at the other, left with their own thoughts and emotions for now. Aware they both needed to cool off and calm down before discussing this anymore. As the cab turned onto the bridge for heading for Brooklyn she quietly asked, "Why are we … what's in Red Hook?"

Bobby glanced at her, "Friends and home court advantage, if needed." Bobby nodded at the cab driver, indicating that now was not the time to get any kind of discussion. She stared at him for a moment before silently turning to stare out the window. Bobby shook his head and suppressed a frustrated sigh. He 'got' that she was mad at him, that she was frightened, that the situation wasn't fair. He 'got' that, because that was exactly what was going through his head too.

After riding the elevator down to the first floor at Hudson Publishing, Bobby had Hope show him the way to the loading dock. Not knowing exactly how much lead time he had, he felt it was a precaution that was called for. He didn't want to run into anyone coming into the building. There were likely to be fewer people on the loading dock and emergency exits were alarmed. There were already enough people up on the fifteenth floor to answer questions, if asked. As luck would have it, there was only one bored young man eating his lunch while disinterestedly turning the pages of one of the books that was soon to be shipped out.

Walking quickly up the alley to the street, Bobby quickly flagged down a cab and hustled Hope into the back seat. After brusquely giving the driver an address in Red Hook, he leaned back and expelled a frustrated sigh. He didn't like being without his car, but he felt they were better off without it. If an APB went out, he didn't want to be caught up in a traffic stop. He'd left the car in front of the publishing company. It was a message and those it was meant for would not misinterpret its meaning. Hope was gone but not alone.

Bobby paid the cab fare as Hope opened the door and looked around the parking lot of the auto repair shop. She saw souped up muscle cars from the 60's and 70's, chromed bumpers sparkling in the sun sitting next to dented mini-vans with car seats and school bumpers stickers emblazoned on their bumpers.

She turned questioningly towards Bobby. He pointed to the left of the building, saying, "The office is over there, why don't you can wait there. I need to find a friend of mine."

Without a word, Hope started to walk to the office, leaving Bobby to follow or not. Frankly, she wasn't sure which she hoped he would do. But she heard his footsteps behind her, and she slowed her pace a fraction to allow him to catch up.

He opened the door, allowing her to enter first. When she did she was greeted with a smile and head nod of a woman on the phone, who silently mouthed, "Be right with you…"

As the woman did, she caught sight of the man behind Hope and broke out into a genuine smile of happiness. Breaking into the one-sided conversation going on over the phone, she blurted, "Look Jack, get the parts over here today, or we'll find someone else." She hung up the phone and was around the counter before Bobby had closed the door.

"Bobby! Ohmigod, it's been so long." She pulled the big man down to give him a kiss and then wrapped him up in a strong hug, one belied by her tiny frame. "You're looking good." She looked over and said a friendly, "Hello" to Hope. Hope stepped back and watched the interaction between the two.

Freeing himself from the woman's grasp, he grinned down at her, "Hey, Gina." Glancing around, he casually asked, "Lewis around?"

Still appraising Hope, Gina turned back to look up at Bobby. "He's out in the garage somewhere… what brings you out here on a workday?"

"I… I'm just going to go find Lewis. I'll be right back." Stopping, he asked Hope, "You want to come with me or wait here? I won't be long."

"She'll wait here." Gina answered, she made a shooing motion with her hands. "You bring Lewis back here when you find him."

Hope shrugged and nodded, indicating she was fine waiting here.

As Bobby pushed through the door to the garage floor, he overheard Gina ask, "You want some coffee, honey?"

* * *

Bobby let his eyes grow accustomed to the lighting before quickly glancing around the garage, searching for Lewis. He nodded to several of the guys he recognized from the days when he was a more frequent visitor to the garage. One of the men spoke up. "Hey, Bobby. You looking for Lewis?"

"Yeah, Tony. You seen him around?"

"Um, not recently. But he was working on the 'vette in the back." Tony wiped his hands before offering his hand to Bobby.

Bobby grasped the outstretched hand shook it and warmly clapped the man on the shoulder. Bobby turned and saw the red 'vette and a pair of boots sticking out from the undercarriage.

Also noticing the boots sticking out from under the car, he added, "Looks like the boss is still hard at work on it."

"Looks like. I'm going to go see him, but I'll see you around. Thanks."

"Sure 'nuff. Hey, don't be such a stranger around here. Cop or not, we can still use your money in the poker game." Bobby nodded and chuckled before heading off towards the 'vette. Tony turned back to the engine he'd been working on and leaned back over it, muttering, "Okay, baby… whaddaya say, we get you purring again?"

Bobby kicked one of the boots sticking out from underneath the corvette. "Hey, Lewis…"

"Yeah, hold on a sec." The voice from under the car called up. Shortly the man came sliding out and when he realized who was standing beside the car, a big smile lit up his face. "Bobby! Man it's good to see you." He held out his hand and allowed Goren to help pull him up. Once to his feet he kept coming reaching around to wrap his friend in a back clapping embrace.

Stepping back, grinning ear to ear, he asked, "So… what can I do you for?" Glancing around he asked, "Is your partner with you? It's been a long time since I've seen Detective Alex."

"No man, Eames isn't here…" Bobby began.

"Probably a good thing. Gina's working the front office. She'd kill me if she saw the sparks flying between the two of us." Lewis grinned.

"Yeah, she sure would." Bobby said dismissively. "Look, let me get right to it. I need a little help. Do you have a car I can borrow?"

Twenty minutes later, Bobby and the girl left. Lewis had 'loaned' Bobby his Camaro, promising to cruise by Hudson Publishing and pick up Bobby's own car if it was still there and bring it back to the garage and hold it for him.

As Gina and Lewis watched the two drive off in the black Camaro, Gina stepped up to Lewis and wrapped her arms around him pulling his close and asked the question she couldn't ask before, "Is Bobby in trouble?"

Lewis held her tightly and shook his head, "Naw, he's fine. It's the girl. Someone's after her, she must be a witness of something."

Gina leaned back to fix him with a pitying look, "Babe, Bobby's a cop. All he has to do is take her downtown to keep her safe. No, she may be in trouble, but this is personal, not professional."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because Bobby's too much of a professional to sleep with a witness."

"What!?"

"You heard me. Didn't you feel the tension in the office. Look, I don't care what anyone has to say, but that kind of tension in a room, doesn't happen between a cop and a witness. That kind only happens when you've had a major fight or something with someone you're sleeping with. Or going to sleep with soon." Gina comfortingly patted Lewis on the back before leaving him to stand there, mouth agape. "It's a good thing Bobby's the cop, because you're not very observant."

Shaking his head in disbelief, but knowing better than to dispute her, he shouted, "Hey Gina, drive me over to check out Bobby's car and I'll buy you lunch."

"Deal. Give me five minutes to get Mike to keep an eye on the office." Gina called back over her shoulder as she added a extra little sway to her hips as she strutted off, causing Lewis to break out in a big goofy grin.

* * *

............. Next chapter ..........................Soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hope experienced a moment of déjà vu. Watching Bobby's hands on the steering wheel as he drove reminded her how excited, how remembered how hopeful she'd felt just the other day. Everything that had happened this morning had done much to erase that pleasant memory to be replaced with the harsh, painful ones from her past. Now she was feeling angry, fearful and hurt. And, it was all his fault, once again she was in a situation where she had no control.

Allowing herself the small luxury of venting some of her frustration, she harshly spit out, "I'm going to guess we're not going back to the apartment, so would you be so kind to tell me where you are taking me?"

"I'm not _'taking you'_ - we're going - somewhere where we can sit and talk." Bobby forced out through gritted teeth. Bobby realized he might have underestimated Hope. Though she projected an aura of fragility and vulnerability, there was also hidden strength. He imagined it to be a hard-won strength. The sort born from the ashes of adversity; the sort earned by not becoming adversity's victim.

Hope jumped at his sharp tone and merely nodded. Honestly, she knew he didn't deserve her anger - the situation did - but then neither did she deserve his. She had begun to think there might be a future for her, after all.

He took his eyes off the road and glanced over at her. She had moved as far from him as she could and was now leaning against the passenger door. He regretted his harsh reply, "I'm sorry," He breathed in deeply before addressing her again, "Lewis and Gina have a little house at Lake Hill up in the Catskills. I think it might be a good place for us to figure this out, for you to figure out what you want to do. To give you the time you need to figure this out before whoever you're hiding from finds you. What your next move is ..."

"I'm not hiding from anyone." she insisted. "No one is looking for me. Some... some one may be watching out for me, but no one is looking for me."

"Who's watching out for you then?"

She was silent for several heartbeats, before reluctantly admitting, "My... my father-in-law."

Bobby felt blindsided. He hadn't seen that coming. "So... so you're married?"

"I was... David, he ... he died almost five years ago." Her anger was quickly being replaced by a tiredness so powerful, she didn't want to continue this conversation; she leaned back against the headrest and she fell silent. Several minutes passed before she continued, "I'd... I don't want to talk about this anymore." She turned to stare out the window.

Still reeling from her revelation, he mutely nodded, determined to allow her the time to pull herself together. After several minutes of quiet, he reached out and turned on the radio. He smiled and shook his head as he recognized the song that was playing. Lewis was a freak for the oldies radio stations. The song playing was an old Jackson 5 song,

_You and I must make a pact, we must bring salvation back_

_Where there is love, I'll be there…_

_I'll reach out my hand to you, I'll have faith in all you do_

_Just call my name and I'll be there…_

They drove on, the music of the 60's and 70's softly playing in the background for nearly an hour. They had just passed Woodstock when Bobby cautiously broke the silence, "Just up ahead, there's a small little grocery, and we can stop there and pick up a few things."

Arms crossed across her chest, she turned to look at him, slowly nodding. He couldn't remember a time that he'd ever seen such an expressionless on a living person.

* * *

The image Hope had conjured up upon hearing the words 'grocery store' was very different from the reality. The small roadside building was a combination of grocery, deli, gas station and rest stop. Slowing long enough to take possession of one of the small carts at the front of the store, Bobby quickly began trolling through the aisles. There was a small selection of fresh fruit and he grabbed apples, bananas and tomatoes. There were boxes of pasta and bottles of sauce and two of each went into the cart. Eggs, bread, cheese, butter and some sliced ham were thrown in as where toothbrushes and toothpaste. Hope followed behind him, still feeling overwhelmed and Bobby had to repeat a request for her to check to see if there was any clothing thing they could use.

She nodded vaguely and wandered off toward a display of souvenir sweatshirts and hats to see if there was anything that would work for them. She held up a sweatshirt with the wording 'Woodstock Revisited' emblazoned across the front, wondering if it would fit him - deciding it probably would at least until the first washing, she picked up one for herself and hurried to the counter where Bobby was loading several bags that had already been rung up. He reached out for the sweatshirts as he said, "We'll take these too, please."

"Unexpected trip?" The smiling girl behind the counter asked as she folded up the two shirts before ringing them.

"You could say that, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. What's it all come to?" Bobby asked.

"$126.87." Bobby started to hand her his credit card and then stopped. He turned to Hope and asked, "How much cash do you have on you?" Turning back to the cashier, he explained, "I just got the damn thing paid off and I'd like to keep it that way, ya know?"

The girl nodded and smiled back at him. It was off-season, the middle of the week, and these two had been the first customers she'd had since starting over two hours ago. "No hurry."

"I've got $74.00, no make that $84.00. You have any cash, honey?" Bobby asked as he turned back to Hope. "It's those sweatshirts, I wasn't planning on those, but... well, she just loves stuff like that. What am I gonna do, ya know?"

"I wish my husband was as understanding as you." When they walked in, she'd seemed angry. She guessed he was trying to make up for something.

Surprised at the endearment, Hope fumbled with her bag, "Ah... let me check. I ... I think so." Hope pulled out her wallet and found three $20.00 dollar bills. "Here... here you go." As she handed him the bills, she dropped her bag; pen, car keys and lipstick flew out. Bending down, she quickly gathered up her things and dropped them back inside the open bag. She joined Bobby at the door and followed him out.

Bobby finished loading their bags into the trunk and let the trunk lid clunk down. Looking up he noticed the old payphone across the parking lot. Hope had already gotten back inside the car and he leaned down and pointed to the phone, "I'm going to make a quick call, I'll be right back."

* * *

He dialed the operator, asked to make a collect call, and gave the operator the number. On the third ring it was answered, "Eames." He'd called her at 1PP, hoping she was there.

"It's me. Call me back at... "he leaned down and read the number off to her. "845-555-1923."

Thirty seconds after hanging up, Bobby picked up the ringing handset. Without preamble, Alex blurted out, "Bobby, where are you?"

"Upstate... with Hope, Lewis has a place.... I'm going to need a couple of days, if you could tell the Capt..."

"You're going to need more than that, Bobby. There are four people in the Captain's office, demanding to know where Hope Thornton is _and_ where you are. Two of them are from the State Department and the other two, well I think they might be from the British Embassy.

Bobby swore as he turned back to look at Hope. What had he gotten himself involved in now? "Look Eames, I have to find out what's going on, before we come in. I'm not just going to hand her over to…. Anything you can do..."

"Bobby, I... I..." Alex knew she bore some of the blame in this, but this was ... a lot.

"Eames I know, it's not fair to drag you into this, I just need a little time to get the story from Hope. She's … well, she's kind of shut down..."

"I'll ... I'll do what I can." Alex was trapped. She had no choice. She knew as well as he, that she would do everything she could to buy him the time he needed. "It probably won't be long though before…"

"I know." Bobby said, realizing he was going to have to work quickly. "Look, my cell is off, Hope's is off. If the phone is working up at Lewis' I'll call you in a couple of hours."

"Bobby, just be careful. We don't ... we don't really know what this is all about."

"I know. But I'm going to find out." Bobby said before hanging up.

Alex stared at the phone in her hand for a minute, before realizing she'd heard her name. Turning quickly, she saw Captain Ross standing in his doorway, "Detective, we need a moment..."

* * *

Special Agents Danforth-Hayes and Richardson had come straight from New York's One Police Plaza to the airport at Teterboro. They exchanged unreadable looks as they watched the private Gulfstream jet as it taxied toward them and the waiting limousine. The doors opened and Sir Nigel Whitledge exited, followed by several assistants. The Home Secretary noticed the two agents and they came forward.

"Sir, she's left..."

"Not here agent. Wait until we get inside the car." Sir Nigel looked around cautiously. This was an unofficial visit and he was determined to keep it a secret visit. Sir Nigel, his chief of staff and the two agents climbed into the back of the limo, leaving the others to follow in another car. As soon as the door closed, the driver pulled away.

"Now, tell me about this New York City detective...."

* * *

........... Be on the lookout for Chapter 11 ......... Coming soon!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

After leaving the grocery store, it took only another ten minutes and one false turn to get to the house. "I've only been up here a couple of times," He offered as explanation for the delay, "and either Lewis or Gina has always driven. I've never really paid much attention to how we got here."

Bobby turned off into a small circular drive almost hidden among the tree-lined road. Even in the midst of her anger and confusion, Hope didn't fail to notice the welcoming picture in front of them. The driveway's gentle curve led them to a small brick farmhouse fronted by a porch that ran the length of the home. Flowerbeds in front were now bare, but she could imagine the riot of colors in the spring. At another time, she could image being charmed by its privacy and coziness.

"The place belonged to Gina's parents. When they moved to Florida a couple of years ago, they sold it to Lewis and Gina. They come up here when they can."

He turned the engine off and got out of the car. When Hope joined him, he said, "Well, let's see what we're walking into. Lewis told me the place might need aired out. They haven't been up here for about a month. I remember it as having quite a musty smell the last time I was up here. "

Unlocking the door, he flipped on the lights. Gina had obviously known they weren't going to be able to make it up here for a while - much of the furniture was covered with sheets. "This won't so be bad."

"Especially since we'll be going back to the city in the morning." Hope pointed out. "This whole adventure isn't necessary." She wasn't going to concede that their flight from the city made any kind of sense at all.

"Well, when you explain to me exactly why this is completely unnecessary, I might just agree with you, and as soon as that happens we can go back to the city. Until then, we're going to stay right here." They were at a stalemate, neither willing to back down. When he refused to balk at her stare down, Hope averted her glaring gaze and swept it around the room.

In frustration Bobby brought a hand up to squeeze the back of his neck, hoping to relieve the tension building in those muscles. Not wanting the situation to escalate, he held his tongue for now. Exhaling forcefully, he told her, "I'll bring in our stuff."

On his first trip back into the house, he saw that she had removed several of the sheets, clearing off the sofa, a couple of chairs and the dining table. On his second trip in, he noticed the open back door and saw Hope shaking out the sheets and folding them up into neat squares. As he emptied the grocery bags, he watched her from the kitchen window, following her with his eyes as she walked over and sat down on the small rock fence that separated the wood deck from the open field that was the back yard.

He continued to put their purchases away. Seeing the coffeemaker, he decided he might as well tackle the domestic chores, even though Hope had cleared off some of the furniture, she didn't appear to be taking much of an interest. He had seen coffee beans in the fridge and decided to brew up a pot.

* * *

Hope had disinterestedly looked around the small-furnished rooms before noticing a pair of French doors. As she passed the covered furniture on her way to the doors, she slid several of the sheets off and dragged them along in her wake. She really needed to be away from him right now, her anger coalescing into rage. A rage not directed at him, but at herself. For her actions, for her choice. If she had imagined a day like this when sat down to write that first letter, she wasn't sure it was a trade off she would have made.

He hadn't asked his partner to check her out, had he? No, she was sure he hadn't. But right now, that didn't make her feel any better. Rationally Hope, she knew it wasn't Bobby's fault that his partner had escalated what had apparently been an - unknown to her - ongoing situation. All from a desire, a need to look out for him. She wondered how many others had tried to look out for him before.

Her thoughts turned to David. She thought about his death, but more significantly she thought about how he had betrayed her. He'd put her life in danger as well as his own. But at least he knew about it, she'd been kept in the dark all along. Confronted by these painful memories, she felt dead inside - once again. She felt the world closing in on her, suffocating her. Slowly she realized tears were flowing down her cheeks, not the gut-wrenching, heartbreaking sobbing of deep loss, but tears of sheer and utter dismay that had come to characterize the last few years.

She heard Bobby's shuffling step behind her, before he cleared his throat. "It looked like you could use these..." she turned to see him continuing to walk towards, extending one hand that held a cup of coffee. Slung over the other arm lay one of the sweatshirts they'd just bought. She turned away from him to wipe at the tear tracks on her face, futilely trying to wipe away her memories with he same motion.

Quietly nodding her acceptance, she reached for the and quickly took a sip to cover up the awkward moment. Grudgingly, she admitted, "It's good. Thank you."

He stepped closer, placed his own mug on the fence and dropped the sweatshirt over her shoulders. "When the sun goes down, it gets cold out here pretty quick."

"So, I'm finding out." Hope acknowledged as she tied the sleeves up around her neck. They sat silently, each sipping their coffees. This was not the same angry silence of the car ride, but the awkward, wary silence that was a consequence of her anger.

Both let the silence grow between them as they looked out over the field towards a stand of trees in the distance. Bobby spotted them first, and reached out to direct Hope's attention to several deer coming out of the woods, grazing at the edge of the field.

She watched the family of deer, envious of the simplicity and symmetry of nature. After several minutes, she risked a glance at the man sitting next to her, sitting so close to her she was actually warmed by the body heat radiating from his frame.

Hesitantly, she asked about Lewis and Gina. "How long have you known Lewis and Gina? They seem like old friends."

Bobby glanced at her several times before answering. Well, this was better than the wary silence and animosity that had taken hold since they'd left her office. "Yeah, they're old friends … good friends. I've known Lewis since we were kids." He shifted his position to be able to look at her directly, without turning his head. "We grew up on the same block. We looked out for each other." She looked surprised and he continued. "Lewis was always kind of a small guy, kind of scruffy and easy prey from some of the boys in the neighborhood. We got into a lot of trouble back in the day. Nothing too serious – curfew, grades, girls, really it was innocent stuff."

When he paused, she sensed that he was seeing it all play out in memory. "How did he look out for you?" she asked, softly.

"What?" He was pulled back to the present as what she'd said sunk in, "oh… well Lewis was one of the few who really understood my family situation. It didn't scare him off, as it did a lot of others. He was just my friend, everything else he just accepted. Gina, on the other hand, now she's the real gem. I guess they've been together 10, 12 years now. She keeps Lewis focused – that's always been one of his problems, he's easily distracted. Without her, he wouldn't own his own business, he wouldn't have a future. Those are his words, not mine … even though I think he might be right."

"I'm going to guess you didn't need anyone to keep you focused?" There was so little the either knew about the other's past. They hadn't gotten to that stage of a relationship yet, even though on one level it felt as if they'd gone too far to go back and make up that missed step.

"Me… no," Bobby grinned as he shook his head, "focus was never my problem. That was probably why we clicked the way we did – opposites attracting to find a balance."

"You… you mentioned your 'family situation', can I ask what that was?"

"My mother was a schizophrenic." He heard her sharp intake of breath, but when she didn't immediately say anything, he continued. "I was seven when she had the first episode that I can pinpoint. I'm sure there were more episodes before then, I… I guess I was too young to want to remember those."

She felt her heart go out to the little boy who witnessed his mother's illness and wondered what scars it left on the man he'd grown into. She understood about scars.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Bobby jumped up, "You getting hungry? How 'bout I make us something to eat?"

She stood and nodded. Silently she followed him back into the house.

* * *

......... Chapter 12 at some point ......


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"You never said you could cook.... this .... this was really good." Hope admitted as she placed her fork on the empty plate in front of her. Reaching over for the wine bottle next to him, Bobby poured more of the red wine for both of them.

"Mom's priority was never cooking … even when she was in a … even when she was like other mom's. As a kid, my brother and I had a choice. Either eat cereal or peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner or learn to look after ourselves. I ... I guess I had it a lot easier than Frank. He was older and he looked out for me. It was a lot tougher on him when we were kids, there was no one looking out for him, after dad left."

His tone started out as if recalling a fond memory, but grew sadder as he spoke. "I'll never understand how the roles switched, maybe it was too much too soon for Frank, too much responsibility … but it broke him and the bond we had as kids." Bobby vigorously scrubbed at the lower half of his face with one hand, before reaching for his glass and taking a large swallow of the bitter brew. Shaking his head, he recognized a terrible truth, "Lewis apparently doesn't know much about wine – this is really horrible."

Hope seemed to be stepping into it with every comment she made today and was beginning to feel guilty for some of her conduct and thoughts about him today. "That must have been difficult for both of you..."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger", right?" Bobby grinned ruefully. "What didn't kill you, Hope? What made you stronger?

* * *

A small shake of her head accompanied a dismissive, _'phfft'_. "Um, well..." Hope cleared her throat before continuing. "Nothing that my childhood in anyway prepared me for. I'm almost ashamed to admit that my childhood was obscenely idyllic."

Bobby let the silence swallow up her words. This was her moment, but it was also her timing. "Well, I really did grow up in St. Louis, my dad really was an executive at Anheuser-Busch, and I did learn about cars from my older brother, Phillip. Mom was a true throwback to the generation of Donna Reed and June Cleaver. Family was everything to her. She looked out for everyone. Anything harsh or negative was kept away from Phillip and me. In retrospect, that probably wasn't for the best.

Bobby ventured a quick question, "How do you mean?"

Now that she had begun and let loose that first trickle of information, she felt the floodgates about to open. She supposed that the first letter to Bobby had set all this in motion several months ago and today was the day to come clean about it all. She thought of the beginning of the first letter she'd written to Bobby:

_'How do I say this.. Words are difficult sometimes, hard to express what you truly feel. _

_So many different ways to say one thing. So I'll just take a deep breath and plunge ahead._

"Well with Phillip, it was the first Gulf War. He enlisted and after basic training, he was gone. He ... um, I can only guess he was unprepared for what he saw. After his tour was up and he left the service, he never came home. I know that our parents heard from him a handful of times, but they never knew where he was. I never heard from him. I was a senior in high school when he came back to the States, but he didn't even bother to come back for my graduation. About 8 years ago, my parents were killed in a car accident, I tried to find him, to let him know. I left messages with a few people I thought he might still be in contact with, but I don't know if he ever got them. But he didn't make it for the funerals."

Bobby knew what that was like. Even after everything he'd seen as a cop and experienced in his own life, it was still surprising to realize, that it wasn't just his family that had been screwed up, everyone's was.

"And what about you?" he asked. "How were you unprepared?"

"Me? Well I guess in my naiveté, I assumed that my life would unfold before me much like my mother's had for her. A simple, uncomplicated life with someone to look out for me. Mine has turned out to be anything but simple and uncomplicated. And I'm not sure anyone's ever looked out for me."

She leaned forward, anxious now to get every secret out.

About a year after college, I had the opportunity to go work in the London offices of a publishing house. My parents were supportive and encouraging, they even came over with me and helped me find an apartment and decorate it. I quickly made friends at work. I was going out, having fun. My work was interesting and challenging. It was a great time."

"Six months later, I was at a book release party when I met David - David Whitledge." She paused to see if he made the name connection. When it appeared that he hadn't, she continued, "He was amazing. Charming. Funny. Intelligent. Attentive. And a little mysterious. I was instantly smitten.

He was working in the Foreign Office in London, but he was aggressively seeking an Embassy posting, anywhere. It took him three years to get an assignment - the Embassy in Cairo. The night he told me about the assignment, he also asked me to marry him, even though we'd never discussed it before.

There was no time for a real wedding; we went to a magistrate's office two days later. His parents were not pleased. They'd never really embraced me. I brought nothing to the marriage of Sir Nigel Whitledge's son. I was a Yank, with no social standing...."

"Nigel Whitledge? The current Home Secretary?"

Hope nodded, "One and the same, although then he was _only_ a ranking member of Parliament."

Okay, so he thought he could see how a new identity had been arranged, but he still didn't know why.

"Once we moved to Cairo, David changed. At first, I attributed it to all the real changes - a new job, a different country, even to us actually getting married. I thought we both just needed time to adjust."

"But he kept spending more and more time away from the Embassy, away from Cairo. He traveled to tel aviv and Riyadh several times a month..."

"He was British Intelligence, MI6." For the last several minutes, he had suspected this is where she was headed.

Hope grimaced and sighed, "Apparently. I never figured it out though. Nigel finally told me the truth about David when I was in the hospital after the ambush that killed David. David had been working with them since university."

Shocked now, Bobby softly asked, "What ambush?"

"Remember that night in the car, when you reached out for the back of my neck and I pulled your hand away?"

He nodded.

"It reminded me of that night. It was our second anniversary and David had arranged a night out on the town. It was extravagant and romantic. All night long, I remember thinking that we'd turned the corner. I don't know that we did. It might have been merely the 'part' he was playing.

"The streets of Cairo are very narrow, and it's easy to box in a car, and ours was. As two men approached, David reached over, his hand to the back of my neck and pulled me down. He... he covered with his body. I could hear rapid gunfire. I could feel David jerking, spasming before I past out."

"Three days later, I woke up in a London hospital. I had been shot six times, but I really wasn't seriously injured, because the bullets had passed through..."

Bobby waved her silent. She didn't need to say it.

It took Hope a minute to continue. "When Nigel told me everything about David, he also said that seeing how I had survived the attack, I might still be in danger. Even though I wasn't involved in David's dealings and had no knowledge of them. He arranged with the British government and our own State Department for a new identity."

My parents were already dead, I had been out of touch with Phillip for years and my husband was dead. Karen Anne Whitledge didn't seem to have much of a future, so I agreed."

"A week later Karen Whitledge checked out of a London hospital and Hope Thornton boarded a plane for New York City and a new job at a small publishing company."

* * *

As Hope reached the end of her story, she felt relief - immense relief. She was also wary of how Bobby was going to react to everything she had told him. She couldn't read the look in his eyes and had to avert her gaze. She stood and went over to stare out the French doors, into the very dark night. Her soul baring recitation hadn't brought up the painful and emotional memories she had assumed that it would. Then it had been neither cathartic nor freeing. The emotional detachment at the telling was a surprise for her. She wasn't even angry about today, anymore. Everything had just evaporated.

Bobby watched from across the room as Hope wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Now he knew what adversity had made her stronger. It was, as he thought earlier, 'big picture'. The thing about 'big picture' was there were people, individuals who were always had to deal with the aftermath. He saw it every day.

He stood and joined Hope at the doors. Watching her reflection in the glass, trying to gauge her reaction to him standing next to her, he reached past her to push open the door. "Why don't we go outside, the night sky up here is amazing."

Hope let him guide her outside. As they had earlier, they sat on the stone fence bordering the patio. Raising her gaze to the sky, she saw that he was right. She felt almost as if she could reach out and touch the stars. They seemed that near. They sat in silence as they both were reminded of how immense the world was.

"This really gives you a sense of insignificance, doesn't it?" Hope finally asked.

Bobby shook his head, "Insignificance? No. Perspective."

"Perspective." Hope tried seeing the view that way, she sighed, "Maybe you're right."

In the chill night air, she shivered. Sensing it, more than seeing it, Bobby put his arm around her shoulders. Hope started to rise and he let his arm drop. Disappointment coursed through him, he'd thought they were going to be okay. When all she did was to move closer to him, his spirits rose.

He pulled her closer. She turned towards him, her upturned face all he could see. Her lips parted slightly as she smiled up at him. If he'd never seen an invitation to kiss someone before, he would have recognized the look and opportunity for what it was. He leaned in, his lips pressing gently to hers, his teeth gently raking her lips, before his tongue snaked its way between her own teeth.


	13. Chapter 13

This chapter literally picks up where the last one left off.... it is no way explicit, merely and slightly suggestive.

* * *

Chapter 13

This was completely unexpected. But very welcome and absolutely impossible to resist as she began her own exploring. Feelings that he had for too long kept deeply buried welled up inside of him, threatening to overwhelm him.

That initial reaction didn't last long though. He could feel when the smile subsided from her lips, demanding more from him than amusement. And for a moment, his only true fear in the world crept up beside him, mocking him that the next moment would be the moment when this would all fall apart and evaporate.

He paused. He waited. Anticipating the worst, slowly realizing it wasn't going to happen. He greedily responded to her silent plea for more.

Then quite extraordinarily, as if to reassure him even more, her lips curved into a new smile, this one speaking of tentative delight. And those wonderful, elegant fingers of hers never made even the slightest attempt to lift away from his shoulders. Instead, they gripped more tightly, steadying herself against his powerful frame. The voices in his head were apparently wrong. Rather than trying to summon sufficient strength to make her escape, she was actually borrowing some of his strength, using it to hold them both in place.

"Hope?" he murmured, his voice as thick as oil.

Taking another breath, she leaned closer, finding her strength, finding his strength. "What's happening now, is what I want to happen. This is what I want. It has nothing to do with the past or anything I just told you, it's ... it's not a reaction to anything other than you." She reached up and gently traced his jawline with her fingertips. "This is just you ... and me."

He nodded, barely fathoming the far-reaching impact of his hands' subtle movements. How many times in the last week had he ached to hold her, comfort her, even kiss her?

Her own eyes closed once again, the grin reappearing on her face. She inhaled, holding it for a moment, then releasing it in a puff. And then she hummed. God almighty, she hummed. As if something beyond this world was happening behind those beautiful eyelids.

At least that stopped him. He couldn't ... wouldn't argue against such an obvious truth anymore. He took a reflexive breath, finally giving conditional permission to his fingers.

"Hope," he whispered, his body tilting against hers. Longingly, he pulled her into the curve defined by the front of his body. His hands craved to be on her again - he couldn't deny that, yet another example of what he could no longer deny himself – or to himself.

At her midriff, she caught hold of his first wandering hand, having felt it alight there to draw her close, then weaken slightly to transform the touch into a caress. And while it was indeed what she wanted, she wanted more. Raising the hand to her lips, she kissed its palm, before drawing his thumb between her lips, before returning to his palm.

"There has to be a better place to do this, than this stone fence." Once again, she took hold of that wandering hand, this time entwining her fingers within his to lead him back into the house.

* * *

Hours later, he awoke slowly, a reaction to the deep chill permeating the room, more than a desire to be awake. Cautiously and carefully, he sat up, desperate to avoid disturbing her, wanting merely to ensure she lay under cover of the blanket. Gathering both sheet and blanket for himself, he shifted onto his side, while gathering her more securely into his embrace.

She nodded and murmured unintelligibly into his neck, then slid her hand once more along his upper arm, slowly tracing the raised welt of an old scar.

He turned towards her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "What? I couldn't hear that?"

Tilting her head back to be able to look at him, she repeated, "How did you get this scar?" She traced the outline of his physical scar, just as he had done with hers earlier.

"It happened during one of my first arrests I was involved with after made detective. I was working in Narcotics. My partner and I were on a stakeout, waiting for a buy to go down. When it did, we were all over them. I had one of the guys down on the ground, but this one short wiry guy got away from my partner and took off. I gave chase, but this guy was ducking through alleys, jumping chain link fences - he was greased lightning. He jumped this one last fence, made it over clean; I went over it, a loose piece of wire caught my shirt sleeve and ripped through my arm. Twenty-four stitches and that's the worst I've been hurt in the line of duty."

"Oh, my poor, poor Bobby." Hope said as she snuggled back against him. "The worst you've been hurt in the line of duty? What about the worst you've been hurt, period?"

"Aww… no. I think that's a story from another time. And someone else's telling. To get that one, you're going to have to have Lewis tell you, just keep in mind anything he tells you is going to tend to make him the hero – which, he wasn't." He could feel her grin.

"Fine, I'll just do that some day."

His fingers began a gentle rub of her back. She flinched as he came into contact with one of the jagged spherical scars on her back. Earlier he had discovered all six wounds, and with determined yet gentle intent he proceeded to kiss away any pain, any anxiety about their presence.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt..." He began.

"It doesn't hurt, it just feels ... different. No one has ever…" Shaking her head she raised herself up to kiss his lips ... Then his neck. Beneath her lips, she could feel the beat of his pulse. At first, the beats were slow and steady, gradually speeding up, keeping time with the rhythm of his breathing. Continuing to take inventory, she found his shoulder, his arm, his scar, his palm and lastly each fingertip.

He released a thread-y breath as the endearments came. He would never deny his pleasure at having her here in his arms. Even if he regretted the catalyst and the journey required getting her to here - there was no point in denying how good she felt tucked in against him. When her arm insinuated itself beneath his waist, he matched it intuitively, one hand slipping below the blanket to glide teasingly along the dip of her side. His hand slid down her midriff, pausing to wait for that final invitation. It came as a subtle shift of her hips, and a parting of her knees around his. In moments, his fingers were dipping lower ...

* * *

Waking for good this time, Bobby realized he was alone in the bed. Turning onto his side, he watched the sheer curtain flutter in the early morning breeze from the half- open window. _No wonder it had been so cold in here during the night._ He watched the play of shadow and light as the lacy fabric swirled and danced across the floor, momentarily stippling its pattern on its hardwood surface.

He stretched and inhaled deeply, the aroma of fresh coffee finding its way to him. Discovering his clothes lying in a crumpled mess on the floor he quickly pulled them on and padded barefoot out in the other room. Now the odors of other food assailed him. _Did_ _he smell pancakes?_

Hope was standing at the stove, back turned to him as he entered the kitchen. Sidling up to her, he slipped his arms around her waist, planting a kiss to the back of her head. "Trying to show me up, in the cooking department, huh?"

Leaning back onto him, she shook her head against his chest and laughed. "No, of course not, just trying to do my share." Turning around within his embrace she proceeded to wrap her arms around his neck, gently pulling him down to her, this time softly repeating her words, "Just trying to do my share."

_You are, Hope. You are..._

It was only the acrid smell of burning eggs that broke their kiss. "Oh, the eggs!" She cried. Grabbing the pan from the burner, Bobby ran water on the eggs and dropped the pan into the sink. Looking around him, she lamented, "They're ruined! And it's your fault, you distracted me."

"My _fault_!? You were the one who started it. Not me." Bobby grinned as he poured coffee for the both of them. Leaning on opposite counters, they sipped their coffee.

"No... you did... when you came out... nevermind ..." she huffed. Glancing around at the already cooked stack of food, "Well, there are still pancakes, bread for toast and I found a can of frozen orange juice in the freezer, so we won't starve."

As they filled their plates with pancakes and syrup, he outlined a plan for the day. "...then we can eat, clean up a little, shower and then head back to the city."

She reached out and put her hand on his. "I don't want to go back now. I think I kind of like it up here. Wouldn't it be nicer to just hang out up here, and never go back to the city? Get Lewis and Gina to sell me this place." Hope pleaded before adding a caveat, "I doubt I'd like it near as much if you weren't here though."

He reached out for her now, to caress her cheek. "There are still things we need to clear up. And the sooner we do that, the better. I have to call Eames and find out what's going on. When I talked to her yesterday, there were people from the State Department and the British Embassy in my Captain's office." Bobby sighed as he contemplated the receptions he was going to get when he return to One Police Plaza, from his Captain and from the Chief of Detectives and from his partner. "I'm kind of hoping I still have a job after this. I've pushed the department, the Chief, my Captain and my partner about as far as anyone could."

"Well... _fine_, if you _really_ want to be responsible and adult about it." Hope sighed and rolled her eyes as reached over to grab his empty plate and drop it in the sink. "Since we're so being responsible and adult about everything, how about this? Since I cooked, you wash."

"Deal. Fair's fair." He nodded agreeably. "I'm just going to call Eames first."

"While you do that, I'm going to jump in the shower." Hope traced a line across his shoulders as she ducked past him.

* * *

It was early, so he called her on her cell, knowing she'd still be a home. "Morning Eames, it's me. We're coming back. We'll be leaving soon so we should be back in a couple of hours."

"No. You're not coming back. You need to stay there. Someone is on there way up there to see you, to see Hope."

Warily, he asked, "Who?"

"Sir Nigel...."

"Whitledge." He finished.

"How did you..."

"I was able to get the whole story last night. It's ... tragic, but not bad news. I think she's safe." Taking a deep breath, he asked the questions that were a larger concern for him this morning, "How are things there? Heard anything from the Chief?"

"After we got off the phone yesterday, the Captain called me into his office ...."

"Damn! Alex.... I'm...." Bobby began.

" ... to explain why you never came back after lunch yesterday. You may not believe it, but there's no problem here. The State Department and a couple of British Embassy attache's admitted they were treating the episode as a valid threat against Hope. They claimed that she contacted the Embassy after noticing two men following her. And that Hope had pleaded with them to let you hide her out someplace safe, safe until Sir Nigel could fly over from England, because he is the only one she trusts. Nothing about the search or Ira and Josh's role in it, or even my mine."

"Okay...." He was reeling. This wasn't adding up. "Why would the State Department _and_ British Embassy personnel bother with coming down to 1PP? Why would either acknowledge anything to the local PD?"

"I don't know, but later last night, Sir Nigel actually showed up with the same two embassy types again, asking if I knew where you might have taken her. He told the Captain that he was responsible for the tracking program attached to her records. When the breach was discovered they went into active surveillance mode, but didn't alert her. They felt that was what spooked her and sent her running."

Bobby was staring out the kitchen window, staring at the spot where Hope had kissed him last night. "Eames, something's not right about this. They admit to a breach of their security. And then proceed to come up with a story that ties everything up into a nice and neat little package - that we _know_ is a lie. What did Ross say?"

"Not much. I don't think he bought their story, but Sir Nigel Whitledge's appearance and reassurance, along with the State Department bringing the Commissioner and the Chief of D's up to speed on it..."

"The Commissioner _and_ the Chief..." He really wasn't going to have a job after this. Another thought came to him, "Who told Sir Nigel where to find Hope and I? Did you tell them?"

"No, he just... knew. I guess, "Big Brother" doesn't just watch the bad guys, anymore." She'd had an uneasy feeling about this all night, and now after speaking with Bobby, she knew where she needed to be. "I've been thinking that since I don't have a partner today, it might be a good idea to take a personal day. Plus, it looks like it's going to be a nice day for a drive up to the Catskills."

"Thanks, Eames." Distracted now - several theories were running through his head - he didn't realize he had hung up before saying, _"good-bye"_.

_Big Brother may watch everyone. But no one watches Bobby's back better than I do. _Alex Eames stared at the phone before jumping out of bed and rushing to the shower.

_

* * *

_

_Only a couple more chapters to go, I think....  
_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_'... showed up with the same two embassy types again...' _

_'... Sir Nigel... he is the only one she trusts...'_

_'... His parents were not pleased. They'd never really embraced me...'_

David Whitledge had been an 'Embassy type'. Bobby was getting a very bad feeling about this.

He sat unmoving, staring at the floor as he sifted the puzzle pieces around to reveal the picture. He stood and walked over to the desk, where he'd put his gun yesterday. He checked the chamber and the clip. Sighing deeply, he chambered a round.

Hope had watched his movements from the doorway. Tentatively, she ventured forward, "Bobby? What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Sir Nigel Whitledge - your father-in-law - is on his way up here to see you."

"Wha...? Why?" A stunned and confused Hope asked as she slowly walked over to the sofa and perched on the edge of the seat.

"Sir Nigel has had you watched, probably since you came to New York. At work... at the apartment, likely every place you go to with any regularity. He's probably very aware of your routine."

At the stricken look on her face, he rushed on, "Most likely it's been passive surveillance - a simple phone call - it could be someone like Jimmy, our doorman at the apartment... the security guard at Hudson, maybe even your assistant..."

"A simple phone call..." Hope whispered. She couldn't imagine why anyone would think any surveillance - passive or any other kind was necessary.

Bobby continued, "... passing on the name of a visitor, a planned trip or vacation, any change in routine."

"A... a change of routine? So, in another word - you?"

Bobby nodded. "There was an electronic trace on your information, when that was triggered by the search my partner had done..." Bobby left the rest unsaid.

Hope chewed at her nail as she thought about his explanation. Her voice rose and gained strength with each word she spoke, "Nigel thought that I might be in danger. Okay, I guess that makes sense ... if you assume it makes sense to have me under surveillance, in the first place. Which it doesn't."

"But Sir Nigel was concerned enough to set you up with a new identity, why would that have been necessary if he didn't believe you might still be in danger? And if he did believe you were still in danger wouldn't he have made sure safeguards were in place for your continued safety? One follows the other."

Hope shook her head. This was all so confusing. So... so unnecessary. "Since I came back to the States, I haven't even heard from him - not a visit, not a phone call, not a letter, nothing."

"He might have had reason to believe that he was being watched, that any contact would lead someone to you..."

"Why? Because I survived an attack - I didn't see anything that night. I didn't know anything about David's work, I wasn't involved in .... in anything. I don't think I even ... even really knew who David was!" She sounded slightly hysterical to her own ears, seeing Bobby stand and come over to her; she realized he had heard it too.

He sat next to her and put his arm around her - pulling her back from the edge, literally. As he pulled her back to lean against the back cushion of the sofa, she had to scoot back on the seat cushion.

She leaned onto him. Neither said anything as they both tried to process the last few minutes. Slowly he could feel her breathing slow. Tilting his head down to look at her, he softly asked, "Better?"

Sighing heavily, Hope nodded into his chest. "So... what do we do? Just wait for Nigel to show up?"

"Not exactly. I want to be ready to move if it doesn't feel right when he gets here. Anything odd at all - we have to be ready to move."

She nodded again, "How long do you think before he gets here?"

"I have no idea. I think he's probably already on his way here. Maybe an hour? I should tell you that Alex is on her way up here too."

"She's concerned that there might be..." Hope began.

"She's cautious, and she doesn't completely buy the story that she was told yesterday." He hesitated before slowly asking, "Hope ... have you ... have you ever handled a gun?"

She froze. Her breathing stopped. Her heart stopped. Her world shifted again. She shook her head 'no' against his chest. She inhaled and let out a deep shuttering sigh, her heart beat again, rapidly accelerating. Slowly she pushed herself away from Bobby. She inhaled deep breath and let it out slowly.

With a new found steely resolve, she stood and looked down at Bobby, "There are things we need to do to get ready... "

* * *

Mentally shaking himself, Sir Nigel Whitledge admonished himself, _Snap out of it! I need to know whom I'm dealing with._

Stealing a quick glance towards the agents sitting across from him, he wondered if either man had noticed his wool-gathering. Richardson seemed to be asleep, so no worry there. Clearing his throat, he complimented the agents, "This is quite a thorough background for having been thrown together so quickly."

Agent Danforth-Hayes pulled his gaze away from the view offered from the tinted window to focus on Sir Nigel. He had spent the last several minutes studying the passing scenery since the Home Secretary had removed his glasses, closed his eyes and leaned back against the head rest.

"We did have several days, Sir. Our initial contact with Detective Goren was recorded on Saturday, last. That contact initiated the collection of his background material. His history wasn't too difficult to track down - he has been involved in some high profile local cases and has had a fair amount of press."

Sir Nigel could see that not all of that press was favorable, but his credentials were very interesting and reassuring. "Still, quite remarkable..." He said as he began to page through the documents again. United States Army Criminal Investigation Division. Mentored by the once great FBI criminal profiler - Declan Gage - (shame what's befallen him and his reputation of late). His years with the New York Police Department showed a remarkable tendency for justice, not merely arrests and convictions. Those same years also showed a remarkable proclivity to rubbing his superiors the wrong way. He was counting on the fact that the information provided in this report painted an accurate portrait of Robert Goren. Hope Thornton's life might depend on it.

Agent Danforth-Hayes glanced over at his partner - James Richardson - who had muttered something about needing more sleep, as soon as the limo pulled out of the Embassy grounds. He still sat, slumped down in the seat, arms crossed on his chest, head leaning against the glass of the window. _The_ _sleep of the innocent.... or the foolish_. Danforth-Hayes greatest regret was no longer being stationed in a area of conflict. Most of the twenty years he'd spent serving his country had been in doing the dangerous and important work of looking out for his country's security. The last three years service in the United States had been little more than routine, boring and safe. That 'routine' seemed to suit the younger Richardson, or 'Jamey boy' as he often referred to his partner as, just fine. Danforth was chafing under the restraint required of him to work with a partner. Until coming to work in the civilized surroundings of New York City, he'd never needed had a partner and he wasn't adjusting well to working with one. He missed the freedom of relying only on himself and yes, dammit - the danger, the adrenaline rush of intrigue, of risk - he was anxious for his return to 'the game', his request for transfer already submitted and hopefully soon to be approved.

* * *

Lewis quietly slipped back into the bedroom after speaking to Alex on his cell phone.

Groggily, Gina asked, "Who's calling you so early? I thought you were taking today off?"

"Shhh, go back to sleep." Lewis opened the closet and pulled on a clean shirt.

Gina was awake now, wide awake. "Where... where are you going? Who was that on the phone?" Gina sat up and watched as Lewis pulled a pair of jeans out of the dresser.

"It was Alex - Bobby's partner. She wanted directions to the house." Tucking his shirt into the waistband of his jeans, he added. "I've got a bad feeling …, Bobby could be in some serious trouble now."

"So... you're going to go up there to save his ass..." Gina flung the blanket off herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed, "...wait for me."

"No, Gina. You need to stay here."

"No. _You_ need to not tell me what to do. I care about Bobby as much as I do and if you're going up to the house _my_ parents sold _me_ - _my_ house - then I'm going with you. Now get out of my way." Gina pushed past Lewis, dressed and ready to go.

"Oh, and on the drive up to the house, you can tell me exactly why it is that Bobby's partner - _Bobby's female partner _- has your cell phone number..."

Lewis grimaced and shook his head as he followed Gina out of the room. "Don't go making that out to be something..."

Thankfully Lewis couldn't see the grin on her face or read her mind, _'Deflection and distraction... keep him off balance.'_

* * *

As soon as Alex got off the phone with Lewis, she was on her way out of the city, somehow finding that five-minute window before the weekday morning commute turns to stop-n-go gridlock. Now she was making good time on the interstate, and thankful that she had decided to install a GPS system in her car. It was going to save a lot of time looking driving around looking for Lewis' house. She hoped they matched the directions she'd just gotten from Lewis. She hadn't wanted to call Lewis, but she did want to get to Bobby and Hope as quickly as she could. Just because she was a woman and willing to ask for directions didn't mean she ever wanted to stop and ask for directions. If anything was going to happen today, she would hate to be late because she'd gotten lost. This could still turn out to be nothing, but she wasn't willing to risk her partner - her friend's safety and well-being on that off chance.

The drive upstate was giving her time to think and organize her thoughts. She felt a certain amount of guilt that her rash and impulsive request to Ira to run an unauthorized check into Hope Thornton's background had inadvertently set the whole chain of events in motion. As Captain Ross was fond of saying, _'the law of unintended consequences...' _She was supposed to be the steady one, the one looking out for him, watching him. This episode rivaled and maybe even topped the stunts Bobby had managed to pull off over the years.

More disturbing that this professional breach, was the breach into the personal - Bobby's personal affairs. Never in all their years together as partner's had either crossed that boundary between professional and personal. They knew each others' history, they did talk to each other about their lives - they even knew some deep and dark secrets about the other, but neither had ever stepped over the line to become involved in the others' private life. Even though when the two spoke on the phone earlier, everything seemed fine between them, she had her misgivings. She knew there would come a time when he would confront her about what she'd done. What defense would she have? That he had been through such emotional turmoil that last few years, she didn't trust him to give the red flags in Hope Thornton's past their proper consideration; or worse, that he was already too emotionally vested in the relationship that his judgment couldn't be trusted. That would really bring to an end of their partnership. No, she was counting on history being in her favor, she and Bobby had survived difficult times before, they would survive this one as well. Both had invested more faith and trust in their partnership than either ever did in their personal ones.

Another of Ross' admonitions was swirling through her memory, _'keep me in the loop'_. As she picked up her phone to call in she wondered, what her relationship with her partner was going to be like tomorrow...

* * *

To be continued....


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The limo driver pulled off the road and up to a row of gas pumps at a small quik stop/ grocery/gas station, one similar to thousands all over the state. As he went through the ritual of pumping the gas, his three passengers took advantage of the break to get out of the car. He watched as Danforth-Hayes took position as point guard, scanning the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Richardson strolled inside the store and came out a minute later swigging down a soda while eating a candy bar. Sir Nigel seemed to enjoy the opportunity to light up his pipe, sending plumes of cherry scented tobacco smoke drifting his way. The 'invisible man' - he often thought his charges considered him 'invisible' - replaced the nozzle on the pump, and walked toward the store, slowing as he approached Sir Nigel, he said, "We'll be ready to leave in just a moment, Sir."

Danforth-Hayes watched the exchange between the limo driver and Sir Nigel. In the background, his eye caught the figure of his partner, lounging against the side of the building. He shook his head at the casual attitude of his partner. He simply couldn't understand the reckless and dangerous lapse of diligence, even within the boundaries of the relative safety of a 'friendly' nation like the United States.

Slowly and deliberately, he approached his partner, not even trying to hide his disgust, he said, "I don't mean to intrude on your 'break' Jamey, but kindly take notice of Sir Whitledge's safety while I step inside for a moment."

"You know me boss, ever vigilant." Richardson's cheeky reply accompanied a snappy salute. Turning back to keep Sir Whitledge in his line of sight, he sensed his partner stalk off and into the building. Muttering to himself he said, "You're a little too tightly wound - my boy - too tightly wound." Richardson allowed himself a small smile. If his partner had any idea of how much Richardson actually took note of - and passed on to others - Danforth-Hayes might well have to acknowledge a grudging respect for Richardson's alertness.

Danforth-Hayes and the limo driver exited the market together, although to the casual observer here wasn't a hint of camaraderie between the two men. And in fact no such emotion was felt by either man. Danforth-Hayes caught Richardson's eye and motioned towards the limo. Richardson nodded once, walked the short distance to where Sir Whitledge stood, slowly puffing away at his pipe.

"It's time to go, Sir."

"Yes, of course." Sir Nigel replied. He took one last puff off the pipe before emptying the bowl into a foam cup with the remains of his coffee in it. Swishing the mixture of tobacco and coffee around, he tossed the blended mess onto the gravel lot. Walking toward the car he came to an old oil drum that was being used as a trash receptacle, stopping he pulled a balled up wad of paper from his jacket pocket, clearly putting it inside the cup before dropping the cup into the trash.

* * *

Alex slowed as she steered her car through the s-shaped curve in the road. Lewis had warned her about the curve and the proximity of the turn to the entrance to the small private road leading to the small house where Bobby and Hope were staying.

Making the turn she was surprised that once past the bushes and trees along the road, she was now in the midst of a wide-open expanse of land, the tree line beginning again about a mile ahead. Seeing the black Camero Lewis had told her Bobby had borrowed, she was reassured to see that the car's nose was facing out ready to make a quick escape. While Bobby and Hope had decided not to avoid the meeting with Sir Nigel, Bobby was taking precautions. As she slowed the car allowing it to roll to a stop in front of the house, Bobby came out of the house, raising his hand in greeting.

Opening her car door, she stretched and offered up a wary embarrassed, tight-lipped smile. Bobby strolled over to the car and leaned against the car's fender, arms across his chest, gazing at his shoes.

He broke the silence, "So, I just finished loading up the car with the few things Hope and I bought, ready to go - just in case."

"That looks new..." Alex noted with a trace of genuine smile on her face. She pointed at the '_Woodstock Revisited_' sweatshirt he was wearing.

An embarrassed grin played around his lips, remembering how he'd stripped Hope of this same sweatshirt last night, "We didn't have a chance to stop and pick up a change of clothes - I really wanted to get Hope out of the city..."

"Just in case." Alex nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, just in case." He wasn't going to tell her, that he'd been just as desperate to get Hope out of the city, before her anger at him for confronting her would lead her to walk away from him.

Eames nodded towards the house, "She's inside?"

Bobby nodded. She kicked at a piece of gravel with the toe of her boot, "Um... look Bobby, about..."

His shaking head stopped her, his words encouraged her, as he said, "You ... you were right to check." Quickly glancing back at the open doorway, he continued, "I knew… I felt that Hope wasn't a danger to me, I didn't stop to consider that she might be the one in danger."

Alex needed to clear the air, "If the search hadn't triggered the trace, no one would be in this situation. I'm so sorry, if I'd just let you... if I'd just let things follow the natural course of events …"

Bobby nodded his head sadly, speaking softly, "I suppose that's all true. But the surveillance was real – is real. If she really needs the security, if Hope is really in danger, she needs to be aware of it – and she hasn't been."

"She has had to tell me … tell me things she didn't want to, at a time she didn't want to, but there's no changing that now. It's done Alex, there's no going back. All we can do now is deal with the situation as it is." While he surveyed the area for.... anything - anything to keep from looking Alex in the eye, he added, "We should probably go inside. There are a few things we need to go over before Whitledge gets here." He hated it when he and Alex were off-balance as they were now.

Alex nodded. She understood what he was saying. Right now, things were not 100 percent right between them - but they would be. She felt that one worry slip away - but realized there were many others laying just beyond her awareness.

Inhaling deeply, she followed Bobby into the house, even more wary of the welcome that awaited her beyond that threshold than she had been of her first few minutes with Bobby.

* * *

Hope heard the two of them, Bobby and his partner enter the house, but didn't turn to greet them. She took one last moment to enjoy the view of the field and trees beyond relishing the sense of peace the scene instilled within her. Remembering the small herd of deer from last night, and the sense of calmness that had descended around her while watching them, she now understood that it was in that moment of clarity that she'd rediscovered a strength and confidence that had laid dormant for too long.

Even today, the feeling continued to grow. Since going over the outline of a plan with Bobby earlier, she had felt a growing resolve and determination to face down whatever awaited her. She would soon be taking back control of her life. No longer was she going to cower within the confines of her apartment, living in complacent apathy. There was no going back to that life now - it was too late, she'd had a taste of another life, another chance. She'd taken a bold step with her first letter to Bobby, and even though there was still doubt and fear about that action - there was no turning back.

"Hope? Alex is here." Bobby had advanced to a point about halfway between the two women. Alex had stopped walking just after entering the room and Hope stood at the french door staring out as she'd done several times since they arrived.

Hope turned to get her first look at his partner. Alex Eames was quite a petite woman. That was surprising, she'd assumed the female officer would be taller, more of a physical match with Bobby. What other assumptions had she made about the detective? Which ones would prove to be wrong and which would prove to be correct? What preconceived ideas did the petite detective harbor about her?

There was a lot of tension in the room. All three were unsure of the others' reactions to each other. Hope took the opportunity to cross the room, slowly extending her hand as she did so, and softly saying, "Hello Alex. It's good to meet you. I wish... " she glanced over to Bobby and back to Alex before continuing, with a shrug of her shoulder, "...well, I wish the circumstances were - different ... better."

Nodding, Alex agreed. "I can appreciate the - the circumstances, and I am sorry for them ... I feel responsible for them."

"Well, given what we know so far, I guess maybe you should. But then, I don't think we have all the facts yet. So what do you say we just let the ideas of blame and responsibility slide for now."

There was the anger Alex had been fearing, it wasn't a hostile or confrontational anger, merely appropriate for the situation - which Alex took as a good sign. _There may be a chance for the two of us to become friendly - at least for Bobby's sake._ Alex felt a relaxed and genuine smile forming, "I say that's a great idea."

"Good." Hope waved Bobby over, "I know he has several ideas he wants to run by you, so why don't you two sit and I'll get us all some coffee."

* * *

Lewis and Gina were not making very good time. And the tension in the car wasn't helping any. Lewis was sulking and Gina felt badly about that. He had figured out that she had gone off on that tangent about Bobby's partner, Alex.

"I'm sorry... okay?" Gina pleaded. "I know that wasn't fair. But I didn't think it was right to waste time arguing about whether I should come with you or not."

Lewis took his eyes off the road, and turned to look at Gina. "You're right, it wasn't fair." He voice sounded hard and he turned back to focus on the road. "This isn't just some kind of game, Bobby and that girl could be in real trouble."

Gina realized she'd gone too far. She hadn't really thought anything about Bobby's partner having his cell phone number. She hadn't accused him of anything, she knew he was worried about Bobby, and worried about dragging her into a situation he was unsure of, that could prove to be dangerous, and she had given him an excuse to take it out on her.

Unconsciously mimicking one of Bobby's mannerisms – one she must have seen Bobby do a thousand times. She turned toward Lewis and tilted her head sideways to catch his eye. Softly, she said, "I really am sorry. I know you're concerned about Bobby. But that's even more reason for us to get there quickly, just in case there is anything we can do."

Not yet feeling charitable, or ready to forgive her for making this more stressful for him - he wasn't willing to give in and let her off the hook just yet. "Look, we're almost there." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Why don't you call Bobby... Or better yet, just hit redial and tell Detective Eames we'll be pulling into the drive in about five minutes." He added snidely.

Gina stared at him and simply nodded her head stiffly head several times - all the while biting her tongue. _If he's not careful, we really are going to have a fight..._

Gina dialed the phone and when Bobby answered on the first ring, she wasn't the least bit surprised.

* * *

Bobby's phone rang and he looked at the caller ID before answering. "What's up Lewis?" Bobby said into the phone.

Bobby's voice was hard and cold. It took her a moment to answer. "It... It's not Lewis, it's Gina. Lewis wanted me to call and tell you we're only almost at the house, just another few minutes and we'll be there."

"What do you mean, 'we'll be there'? Why? There's no reason why you guys should...." Bobby was practically shouting into the phone.

Gina had about had it with men this morning - and she was ready to let it out. "We're worried about you. We... _I'm_ worried about _my_ house getting shot up. And if you are going to have a problem with _me_ coming up to _my_ house too ... well then you'd better start worrying about what happens to you when I get there - on top of everything else that you have to worry about. Is it really worth it, Bobby?" She paused a moment to let him consider his answer. When he didn't respond, she added, "I didn't think so."

Gina was hopping mad now and simply disconnected the call before throwing the phone down in disgust. "Men!" She spit out harshly as she rolled her eyes, dismissing the startled look on Lewis' face before turning to stare out the window, hoping to calm down before she saw Robert Goren.

Bobby stared at the now silent cell phone. Frustrated, he ran a hand over his head, he said, "Lewis and Gina are almost here." Exhaling loudly, he asked of no one in particular, "Who else is going to show up?"

Eames looked from Hope to Bobby, quietly answering, "I did check in with Captain Ross on my way up..."

With a look of incredulity on his face, he spun around to look at her, "Eames! That's... that's all I need, that's what's been missing through out this whole time, Danny Ross. This is starting to turn into a farce."

Hoping to pacify him, she added, "Well, he didn't say he was coming..."

* * *

Gina opened the front door so suddenly and forcefully that it bounced back off the wall as she stormed over the threshold. Shouting back over her shoulder at Lewis, she didn't see both Bobby and Alex reach for their weapons, staying the move as they realized who had entered.

" - and don't you ever try to tell me what I can do and cannot do ever again! Do you understand me?" Looking around the room and seeing the startled looks on everyone's face, she stumbled.

"And don't you start with me either." She added, pointing her finger at Bobby. "Don't any of you - start with me." With that, she continued to stalk through the house and out onto the patio that Hope had just found so peaceful.

Lewis followed Gina into the house. Needlessly he admitted, "We had a little bit of a fight on the way up here. Sorry to add that onto this…" Frustrated, he sighed deeply and he reached back to massage the back of his neck. "I'd… I'd better go check on her…"

* * *

"I think we're here sir." The limo driver said over the intercom. He'd just turned off the road into the driveway.

His three passengers sat up straighter and peered out at the house and three cars sitting in front of it. Sir Nigel opened the door and started to get out, pausing to tell the two agents, "Gentleman, if you'd kindly wait here for me..."

"Sir Nigel," Agent Danforth-Hayes began, "I don't think that's a very good idea sir. We don't know what this Goren's intent is. He did appear to forcibly compel Miss Tornton to leave with him."

"Did you read the report you prepared for me?" When he received no reply, he continued, "If you had, you would realize how absurd that notion is. I will be fine, this situation does not warrant concern for my safety. The only concern - my only concern is for the well being of Ms. Thornton. I merely need a few minutes alone with her before subjecting her to appearance of her surveillance team."

Reluctantly ceding to his wishes, "As you wish, Sir Nigel." Danforth-Hayes reached into a briefcase at his feet and pulled out a device that looked like a car alarm remote. "If anything... anything at all occurs to make you feel uneasy, simply push this button..." He pushed the small button on the remote to show the Home Secretary what would happen if he did - both he and Agent Richardson had a receiving device that emitted a series of soft beeps as soon as the button was activated. "... and we'll be in before you or anyone else has had a chance to draw a single breath."

Sir Nigel looked over at Agent Richardson, whose imperceptible nod accompanied a cheeky wink of the eye.

_Such impertinence_! Swiftly turning back to the other agent he said, "Fine, fine. Hand it over." Sir Nigel quickly got out of the car. Straightening, he put the cellphone sized device in his pant pocket, adjusted his jacket and ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair. He was nervous about the first face-to-face contact with his daughter-in-law in over three years. He couldn't imagine what she thought and felt about him or of his late son after that length of time. He was about to find out.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Eames had spent the last few minutes - well, really since Lewis and Gina's spectacular entry into the house - keeping watch out one of the front windows. Some one needed to and it helped to distract her attention from the raised voices coming from the back of the house. Everyone's relationships seemed to be on tender hooks because of the unknown, the 'what might happen' moment when Sir Whitledge arrived. Lewis and Gina, Bobby and Hope, hers and Bobby's - this situation could have more far-reaching and disastrous effects than any of them could imagine in the moment.

She was the only one to see the black limo pull into the drive. "Bobby..." She called softly as she turned to see him sitting in the chair opposite from Hope, staring at a point in the distance. Hope was sitting on the sofa, eyes fixed on her tightly clasped hands.

He stood at the sound of his name. Distracted by the movement, Hope glanced up at him, receiving a tight smile in reply in acknowledgment. She nodded imperceptibly as she tried to slow her newly elevated pulse rate. She watched as he walked over to join his partner at the window.

"Looks like its show time." She said as softly as before.

Bobby peeked out the window and saw the stopped limo at the end of the drive. The driver was angling the car to block access out of the driveway. No one was going to get any of the cars out of here as long as the limo sat there.

When no one immediately got out of the car, Bobby whispered, "Call me if anyone gets out before I come back. I'm going to tell Lewis and Gina to stay where they are... and to quiet down."

Eames nodded.

Bobby stopped behind Hope, placing a comforting hand to her shoulder. "Well, he's here. No one has gotten out of the car yet. I'm going to let Lewis and Gina know, and have them stay in the back, the fewer people involved the better.

Hope just nodded, continuously. Bobby leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Are you still convinced you have nothing to fear from your father-in-law?"

Still she nodded.

He wasn't sure his words had penetrated her thoughts. He urged, "Hope, look at me."

She turned glazed eyes to watch him as he pulled back to be able to see her. "I'm going to be right beside you, but you're going to have to let me know..."

"I know." She said, her voice tight with tension. Shaking her head, she continued, "I know that I have nothing to be afraid of from Nigel, he isn't coming here to hurt me. It's... it's just the ... the craziness of all this that's messing with me." Hearing the raised voices coming from the back of the house, she added, "I... I guess it's messing with everyone."

Bobby scratched the back of his head as he nodded. He shot a glance to where Eames stood. "Yeah, I guess it has."

* * *

A black SUV pulled up to the oil drum trash can. Special agent Malcolm Reynolds of the FBI pulled out the balled up piece of paper and got back into the vehicle. The SUV lurched forward before he even had the time to close the door.

"We're not in that much of a hurry, you know. We're only to witness the events; we're not take part in the op, alert anyone to it or stop it from happening."

"Sorry... I know. It's just strange that those are our orders." Special Agent Jason Maxwell steered the car back onto the road and followed in the direction the limo had gone minutes ago.

"The VIP in that car has pull we can't even begin to imagine... and no crime has been committed. We're FBI, not CIA or NSA. It's not in our charter to do anything else, under these circumstances."

"So who's in that limo?"

"You got me. I was in the same meeting you were. Ryerson said, 'watch, report and stay out of it'. I may be senior partner here, but I'm just a grunt field agent like you. I'm not in the loop anymore than you are." _And don't think that doesn't piss me off. _

Flattening the balled up slip of paper on the dashboard, Agent Reynolds read off the address scribbled at the top of page as Agent Maxwell entered the information into their GPS device.

"Got it. About 10 miles up the road." Maxwell turned to face his partner, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Well, let's go. Let's find out what this is all about." Reynolds began to skim the contents of the page, which looked like it had been ripped from a much larger report. _'Subject 2 is an NYPD detective…'

* * *

_

Sir Nigel Whitledge was the Home Secretary of the United Kingdom. He had met with, negotiated with and stared down world leaders. He had helped to broker cease-fires and peace initiatives. Yet, coming face-to-face with his estranged daughter-in-law was playing havoc with his confidence. Then, he reasoned, he had always been more comfortable with the tangible accomplishments of his work than in understanding the workings of emotions and attachments. It wasn't until the last few years that had come to recognize the folly of that way of life. His wife of nearly forty years had died a year ago, although in truth she'd died the day they received the news about David… and Hope. Evelyn Whitledge had been so devastated at the death of her only child; she hadn't had any inclination or desire to reach out to the woman who had survived. Now that he was alone, with only his work as proof of his existence, for some time now he felt the pressure of his own mortality bearing down on him, his own shortcomings. Knowing that this meeting could irrevocably sever all ties with the only 'family' he had left, he felt the fear of being alone.

Slowly, he walked up the drive, climbed the steps and crossed the narrow porch before rapping three times on the front door.

* * *

Hope jumped, startled by the sudden rapping on the door. So many emotions had been running through her mind since discovering Nigel Whitledge was on his way up to talk with her. Her thoughts swirled, remembering her life with David, the contentious relationship with her mother-in-law and Sir Nigel's apathy and disinterest throughout it all. She thought of her initial excitement at the prospect of David's assignment to Cairo and the gradual waning of that excitement as she was left alone I, more and more in the months leading up to David's death.

Bobby had returned from the back of the house, which was now quiet. She couldn't imagine what Bobby had said to Gina and Lewis to quiet them, but the silence was now more unnerving than their earlier shouting match.

Bobby was now at her side, speaking quickly and quietly, "When you open the door, stand behind it, or off to the side. Don't ... don't make yourself a ... a target. Lead him into the house, Eames will take care of the door after he enters."

As Hope stood and walked towards the door, she saw Alex nod encouragingly at her. Hand now tightly gripping the doorknob she paused, closing her eyes while taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart. Before she could open the door, another knock sounded, which caused her to jump and jerk open the door, startling the man standing in the doorway.

Sir Nigel hesitated briefly as he took in the tense and fearful expression on her face. "My dear Kare.... I mean Hope, I'm not all that frightening now, am I?"

"Of course not, Nigel. Come... come in." Hope invited haltingly, as she backed away from the door."

As he entered he looked around the room. First, noticing the tall man standing just a few feet behind Hope - Robert Goren. As he took in the rest of the room, he saw there was one more person in the room. She was a small petite woman, with a serious and tense look on her face, much like the look on Hope's face. He noticed that as much as she was taking in his appearance, she was as concentrated on the view of the outside, her penetrating gaze flicking between the two scenes.

He advanced into the room, extending his hand towards the man in front of him. "You must be Robert Goren. I've just been reading about you."

Bobby remained silent but shook hands with Sir Nigel. Both men now silently evaluating the other. Finally responding, he said, "Yes I am, Sir Nigel Whitledge."

"Please, call me Nigel. The title 'Sir' is so cumbersome." While he was reassured that the man he'd read about seemed to be an accurate picture of the man, he wasn't reassured that the feeling was reciprocated. It was disconcerting to realize that he cared deeply that this man not find him - Sir Nigel Whitledge - wanting.

Turning his attention to the woman keeping watch at the window, he walked towards her, "And you are...." he began.

"_Detective_ Alex Eames. She emphasized her title - she didn't find her title cumbersome at all. In fact she had found it very effective and useful, especially with men who would dismiss her because of her size or gender.

"Ah.... so you are the one we have to thank for this little reunion."

The shock she felt must have registered on her face. Nigel Whitledge quickly adding, "Do not be concerned, Detective Eames. Yes, it is known. But there will be no repercussions, official or otherwise - against anyone involved in breach of security of the classified documents. We have been in talks with your computer friends and we will be studying the methods used by them to access Kare..." Shaking his head he amended, "Hope's records."

Turning back to the interior of the room, he said, "Which is the perfect lead in to why I'm here and why I was having Hope's activities monitored."

Nigel addressed Alex again, "Please why don't you join us?" Nigel really was trying to put everyone at ease. "There's nothing to fear from anyone out there."

"No thanks, I..." she nodded, "I'm fine right here." Alex traded glances with Bobby whose only response was a slight quirk of his lips.

"As you wish." He said smiling at her. Motioning to the chairs and sofa around the room, "why don't the rest of us have a seat and I'll explain everything I can."

Hope began to make her way to the nearest chair, stopping when Bobby reached out and grabbed her elbow, gently steering her to the sofa. Sir Nigel was already taking his seat in a chair near one end of the sofa. Bobby settled himself in a chair opposite Sir Nigel, one that afforded him a straight on view of Sir Nigel but also a clear line of sight to both the front door and the window where Alex was keeping watch.

Bobby had intended to stay a silent observer, leaving it to Sir Nigel and Hope to handle this. When neither had spoken for several minutes, despite his best intentions, Bobby took matters into his own hands.

"Sir Nigel, how long has it been since you've seen Hope?"

"Just over 3 years, right Kar… sorry, Hope. It's difficult, I always think of you as Karen, not Hope."

"Always think of me as Hope? How often was that, Nigel?" Hope asked sarcastically.

Nonplussed, Nigel said, "Yes always…. I think of you often, especially since…"

"Since what? Since David died? Since you began having me watched?" As soon as he began to talk, she felt her rage grow.

He shook his head, realizing she didn't understand. "No, you… you don't understand. I see that," he paused, "that I've failed to convey to you how deeply we cared for …"

"Failed to convey?" Turning to Bobby with a look of disbelief on her face, she asked, "Did you hear that, 'failed to convey'? Failed to convey!" Hope could barely contain her shock. "David and I were together for three years before we got married, and we were married for two – neither you nor Evelyn ever showed any affection or any friendship towards me."

Bobby spoke up, "Um, look. There are obviously some personal issues that need to be resolved between you…" He watched as both Hope and Sir Nigel adopted an attitude of contrition. "… and that's for another time."

"The most important thing right now is answering the questions about Hope's safety. Why is she being watched? Who is watching her? "Is she really in danger or is this an overreaction to the death of your son?"

"Those are all very good questions, Detective Goren." Sir Nigel admitted. "Some are easily answered, some are not."

* * *

Agent James Richardson propped his feet up on the seat recently vacated by Sir Nigel as his partner watched the door of the house close behind him as he entered the house. Jamey turned a lazy gaze toward his partner.

"Tell me something Phillip…" That got his partner's attention; he preferred being addressed merely as Danforth. "What could possibly be so important about keeping tabs on this rather ordinary book editor?"

Dismissively Danforth-Hayes answered, "Other than that she's the Home Secretary's daughter-in-law? What does it matter anyway? We don't choose our assignments, we just carry them out." _Just as we don't choose our partners._

"Well, I heard," Jamey leaned over conspiratorially, "that her husband, Sir Nigel's son was with the agency - one of us - so to speak. One night their car was blocked in on a narrow street and ambushed. She survived, he didn't."

"Jamey, I'm not interested in your gossip."

"It's not gossip. I have a contact... a lady friend in Records. And she was, shall we say, persuaded to answer several of my inquiries."

"And just why would you have inquiries in the first place?"

"Surely, even you must have wondered why we were suddenly assigned to follow this, dare I repeat, rather ordinary book editor?"

"Look Jamey, sure something instigated our increased efforts over the last week, if I were to guess, I'd say someone broke her cover. But as we've not been assigned to investigate that, but rather to shadow her and report back - which we did, I don't require any more reason or answer. I helped set up the network of informants passing on information about her activities, I've been a part of this case since the beginning, and since we've become partners, you have too. That until now, we haven't had to be involved until now is testament to how well the system we had in place worked."

He's certainly making this difficult. "And do you know why she even had a cover to break?"

With a sigh of defeat, Danforth-Hayes resigned himself to playing Jamey's game. When he was on about something the younger agent often proved very dogged and determined.

_Dammit... he's actually piqued my curiosity._ "No Jamey, I don't. Why don't you tell me?"

As I already told you her husband was assassinated - in Cairo. We know that her husband was David Whitledge, Sir Nigel's only son. They had gone out to dinner and on their way home they were ambushed. He died, she survived."

"Yes, so?"

"Well, she wasn't the only one to survive the attack..."

"Who else was there?"

"Their driver that night, Paul Harris." Jamey pointed out the window at the man leaning against the fender, smoking a cigarette. "The same Paul Harris who is now Sir Nigel Whitledge's personal driver. The same Paul Harris who rumor has it, was in a rather dicey scandal in Cairo - something to do with missing documents and about $100,000 dollars in cash - nothing was ever proved though but he was pulled out of the field to become one very over-qualified chauffeur. Paul Harris is or was, MI6 also."

Phillip Danforth-Hayes sat motionless as the possibilities and implications of what Jamey had just told him swirled and tried to coalesce.

Softly he muttered, "Well, that's quite... quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

"I think it's too much of one..." Jamey said as he brought his feet down and leaned for the door handle. "What do you say we find out what our driver thinks about the coincidence?"

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

I tried something a little different in some of the sections in this chapter - shifting the points of view between different characters, it's supposed to be happening simultaneously, but the way I handled it might be confusing - I'd especially appreciate some feedback on that aspect of the chapter - Let me know if this works or if I should restructure those bits of the chapter. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 17

* * *

_"Those are all very good questions, Detective Goren." Sir Nigel admitted. "Some are easily answered, some are not." _

He heard himself say the words. He believed he spoke the truth, he hoped that she would also believe he spoke the truth and that it would in some small way give her a measure of peace he knew she hadn't yet been able to find.

Nigel shifted his gaze from Goren back to Hope, who sat with arms wrapped tightly around herself. He knew he had let her down in the past, but had never realized the extent of how much damage that had to their relationship. He prayed that now they would be able to rebuild a relationship.

"As to why Kar... Hope is being watched." He corrected himself again before continuing, "Well, even after you returned to London and spent those several weeks in hospital, no one was able to gather any information on who was responsible for David's death. There were no leads, no murmurings on the street, nothing; absolutely nothing had been uncovered. There were no witnesses - except for you…"

Hope broke in, "And I didn't see anything. I didn't see the person shooting, I couldn't tell you the direction the shots came from. Nothing."

"As I said there were no witnesses. Also, no individual or group came forward to claim responsibility. For such a public assassination, that was highly unusual. Soon, rumors began to surface at the embassy. The most significant rumor at the time was that the assailant might be someone who worked at the embassy."

Nigel paused, what he had to say next was very difficult. "Not only was there the suspicion that David might have been killed by someone at the embassy but the rest of the rumor was that David had been selling ... or providing classified information to the Saudi's. That he had an Egyptian contact who was then able to get the information to the Saudi's."

"No... no! No, David would never do that. You can't believe that!" Hope insisted as she glanced around the room from Nigel to Bobby and from Bobby to Alex and back to Nigel. "He could never do that. He couldn't. It wasn't his nature. It wasn't." The tone in her voice wavered from a strong conviction to a fearful doubt. "I… I knew my husband. He… wouldn't do that. It's not true."

Nigel looked at her, heartbroken to be the one to tell her that his son had been a traitor. Softly he asked, "How do you explain a Swiss bank account with almost £1,000,000?"

"I can't... that's... that's not possible." She stammered. "There's some mistake… there, there has to be a mistake." This was turning out to be so much worse than she had imagined. She knew that she had been suppressing a great deal of anger towards Nigel, had known it for a long time, but truly felt it for the first time today. But this was an assault on her understanding of who and what David was. The picture that Nigel was painting was someone she didn't recognize. His quiet insistence struck her as such a betrayal.

"You're wrong Nigel. You... Have... To... Be... Wrong..."

Bobby sat back, watching both Hope and Sir Nigel. He could see her anger was long simmering, and not going to solved today. He knew that it went hand in hand with the hurt from her reserved treatment from her in-laws and was not going to easily resolved. He could also see her anger slowly giving way to a more immediate and much greater horror - doubt. While he was well versed and understood the type of anger she was displaying, he could only try to imagine what the doubt and new pain that was creating for her. And how it was going to complicate today's discussion.

Bobby watched Whitledge as he spoke directly to Hope. He leaned forward, seeming almost desperate to convince her of his sincerity. _He believes what he's telling her. It may not be the truth, but he believes that it is._

Bobby didn't get the sense that Sir Whitledge was hiding anything or holding anything back. The man may have had his own reasons for ordering the surveillance measures, but those reasons seemed more personal than anything, certainly not intended to be harmful to her.

Sir Nigel's voice broke through Bobby's musings...

"There were those at the embassy who felt, and who ere finally able to convince me that there was a good chance that the ambush had been done by someone who worked with David, or had contact with him. There was also the belief that the individual in question might fear that you knew of his identity and involvement and that it might be something you might not even be aware that you knew. That's why the covert surveillance. My wish for you has always been for you to be able to live your life as … as unburdened as possible."

Bobby saw her eyes flash before she responded, "Unburdened?" She stood and began pacing. Turning back to face Nigel, she accused, "It's because of the money, isn't it? You thought I knew about the money. You've been waiting for me to go after it. That's why you've had me watched."

"No. Absolutely not. My primary concern has always been for your safety."

Seeing a look of scorn cross her face, he persisted. "I encouraged David to be honest with you about his work - at the embassy. I believed you had the right to know What the inherent danger could be, to you both. He felt the less you knew the better. I felt the opposite. I've always had the utmost concern for your safety. Regrettably, it appears that has never been apparent to you."

"But then why ...."

"... all the secrecy about the surveillance. I wanted you to be able to get on with your life. There was so much to rebuild. I didn't want to alarm you, I thought the potential for danger was very low, but I had a duty to you to make sure you were safe. You're my daughter-in-law. It's my responsibility and you had… there was no one else. In this one last thing though, while it went against my instincts and counseling of David, I chose one last time to honor my son's wishes - to keep certain realities from you."

* * *

As Jamey Richardson casually walked around the front of the car, Danforth-Hayes opened his passenger car door, stood and stretched as he turned and looked at the driver, Harris.

"You think I could bum one of those cigarettes from you?" The question accompanied his pantomimed pointing to the cigarette dangling from Harris' lips."

With a small shrug, Harris reached into his jacket for the pack of cigarettes, shook one out and offered it to the man. Slightly bemused, he asked, "You smoke? I haven't noticed you smoking or taking any cigarette breaks before."

"Thanks." Danforth-Hayes said as he took the proffered cigarette, slowly raising it to savor the biting aroma of the tobacco. "I've managed to mostly quit. But now, with nothing to do, nothing to focus on..." He nodded towards the house. "Sir Nigel has made it clear that we're not needed in the current situation. "Do you have a light, too?"

Nodding, Harris reached for his lighter. The little hairs on the back of his neck were alerting him to possible danger. He might just be overreacting though; he didn't know either Danforth-Hayes or Richardson well. Danforth-Hayes was trying to quit smoking. Maybe that was why he always found it to be so unpleasant to be around the man. Finally an explanation of why the man always gave off an air of distain and uncompromising harshness. _That's one reason why you'll never catch me trying to quit._

Lighting the cigarette, Danforth-Hayes took a deep drag and pulled the smoke deep into his lungs. He grudgingly admitted to himself how much he missed the feeling. Admiring the polished surface of the lighter he noticed the military insignia etched into the finish - the Desert Rat symbol of the 7th Armored Division, British Army.

"The Desert Rats, eh? Your father's?"

Shaking his head, he indicated 'no'. "It belonged to my grandfather. He served with the 7th during WWII – the whole thing - the African campaign, Normandy, Burma, even the Italian campaign. After the war he returned to Egypt to live. He returned to England only a handful of times over the years - the desert and Egypt had won his heart."

"Where did he settle down in Egypt?"

"Cairo. My grandmother was Egyptian. My father was born grew up there, and only left to go to university at Oxford."

"And you..." Richardson asked. Jumping into the conversation for the first time.

"Me?"

"Yeah, how did you wind up in Cairo? Given your family history it makes sense, but…"

"How did I.... oh, you know about my 'embassy' job. He used 'air quotes' to highlight the word 'embassy'. "My father met my mother at university and the two moved back to Egypt after graduation. After I was born, my father went to work at the embassy as a translator. I inherited his gift for languages and followed in his footsteps - Oxford and the diplomatic corp. I began work as a translator in the embassy in Tel Aviv, eventually winding up back in Egypt, just like the rest of my family. Once the desert captures you, you'll never be free of her."

"But now, you're a car jockey for the Home Secretary." Richardson pressed harder, hoping to press the right button.

"I chauffeured for many of the embassy staff and several high ranking dignitaries to and from the embassy and to various meetings. I was also part of whatever security detail assigned to that person - an extra security man, if you will. I am a highly qualified driver."

"I'm sure you're linguistic skills were an invaluable asset, as well. I bet you got to hear many high level discussions..."

"Sure...."

"Hey, did you know Sir Nigel's son? He was part of the "embassy" staff, too."

Harris realized the two agents had moved in closer, to the point of crowding him. Quickly weighing his options, he realized he didn't have many, if any. They knew something. How much they knew, he couldn't guess. Considering who was inside the house, he would have to assume they knew everything. This in reality left him with just one option.

"David? Sure. We were almost kind of a team for a while. I was assigned to drive him and provide back up to meetings several times during his short tenure at the embassy." Dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground, he snubbed out the embers with the toe of his boot as he reached into his jacket. Glancing at Richardson, he asked, "How 'bout it, would you like a cigarette too?"

As he asked the question, his index finger wrapped around the trigger of the small gun he carried at his waist. Without removing his hand, he fired through the jacket and into the ribcage of Danforth-Hayes. Before either of the other two men realized what had happened, Harris had the gun trained on Richardson.

"Don't move." Harris spat out urgently. "On your knees."

When Richardson didn't immediately comply, Harris pressed the still warm barrel against the man's forehead. "Do it. NOW."

Richardson slowly sank down, the stones in the gravel drive pressing into his knees. He risked a glance to where Danforth-Hayes lay writhing on the ground gasping for breath. While his head was turned away from the house, looking at his partner, he thought he heard the sound of the front door of the house crash open and footsteps racing crossing the wooden porch. He didn't have the chance to check, as a sudden blinding bolt of pain splashed through his brain and he felt himself falling face first onto the ground.

* * *

Eames had allowed herself to become distracted by the personal drama playing out on the other side of the room. She had been taking only cursory glances out the window for the last few minutes. Silently chastising herself, she turned her back on the room to concentrate on the view outside. She cursed silently when she saw the three men now standing outside the car, watching the house.

"Bobby..." The tense urgency in her voice had him at her side before she could finish the sentence, "... three men, at the car, staring up at the house. It kind of looks like they're just smoking and shooting the breeze, but..."

"That's what it looks like all right. How 'bout it Sir Whitledge?" Bobby walked over to Sir Nigel and asked, "What's the story with the three men outside?"

"Nothing for anyone to be concerned about." Nigel replied, frustrated at the interruption. "All three are in government service. Two of them are the agents that have spent most of the last week trying of collect as much information about Hope's recent activities - as well as your own, Detective Goren. The third man is my personal driver. I have, by necessity of my position, a certain level of security that must be maintained, even in the United States."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully and muttered, "Makes sense..." as he returned to Eames' side. "... but there's no use taking any chances either." Alex nodded briskly, having already reached the same conclusions. She turned back to watch the scene outside as Bobby stood next to her, taking up the watch too.

* * *

The two FBI men also stood outside their SUV. They had continued driving past the entrance to the drive about one hundred yards before finding a narrow dirt track leading into a small patch of brush. Using the brush for cover they were able to back track almost fifty yards and now had a clear view of the house and cars parked in front.

"It looks peaceful enough." Special Agent Maxwell said as he handed the pair of binoculars over to his partner.

Adjusting the focus, Reynolds asked, "Did you notice how many cars are out front - four all together, all boxed in by the limo at the end of the drive?"

"Yeah, I thought that was interesting. This little meeting between - what was it supposed to be - two or three people seems to have grown into quite a little party. Three out side, at least four inside, plus the two of us. Seems to me as if that's too many people for something not to go wrong."

Maxwell smiled behind his partner's back before continuing, "Did you notice that old beat up Chevy Blazer we passed on the side of the road. Looks like it just about lines up off the back corner of that barn or garage building off to the left."

Reynolds' smiled as he turned to look over at his partner. "Good catch, Jason. I think someone inside that house has planned for an alternate way out of here. You stay here, I'm going to work my way back to that Blazer and see what I can find that way." He stood and handed the binoculars back to Maxwell. "You hang on to these, and keep an eye out. If anything happens, you let me know Remember we are just here to observe and report, but if we observe or fail to report any federal law being broken, well..." He checked his earpiece and tested his mic.

As Maxwell did the same, he admonished his partner, "We'd be derelict in our duty…"

"Exactly. Give me the keys." He turned towards the road and started walking through the brush. "I'll let you know when I get back to the Blazer. I think I might even try to work my way closer to that barn.

* * *

Silently Bobby watched the three men. They may have been leaning up against the car, smoking and talking, presenting a picture of relaxed ease, but he sensed tenseness in all three men, that mirrored the tenseness he was feeling. "It's the man in the middle. The other two are closing in on him."

Eames looked closer, anxious to see what it was that Bobby saw. Nodding, she saw it too. "They're going in for the kill."

"Sir Whitledge, could you tell us who the man in the middle is?"

Nigel stood and walked over to the window.

"Is he your driver?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, that's Paul Harris. He's my driver. And the man to his left is…"

The slightly muffled sound of a gunshot came back to them as they watch the man to Paul Harris' left crumple to the ground.

Bobby and Alex already had their guns at the ready as they race through the door and across the porch…

* * *

Within five minutes Reynolds found a place near the Blazer to park on the shoulder. He had farther to walk in from the road than they'd had in the previous position, but it didn't take him long to get to the edge of the brush. He could see now that the building was more like a small barn than a shed or garage. There was about 200 feet of open space between the barn and his vantage point. From his position he didn't have a clear view of the men - the car blocked his view.

"Ok, Maxwell, I'm in place. About 200 feet from the barn, the right back corner is right in front of me. The car is blocking my view of the men. You're going to have to tell me what's going on…

"Roger that. They're still there, just smoking and…" Maxwell's description was interrupted by the sound of a single gunshot.

"Man down." He shouted into his microphone. "Man down."

"Go… move in. Stay along the brush as long as you can. I'm going for the barn." Ducking down he began his run. "And for the love of God, don't shoot. I don't want to get hit by one of your strays as I make my way in."

"Don't you worry about my aim, worry about your own, old man." Maxwell teased. "Another man down… and … and one, no two people rushing out of the house. This is turning into the O.K. Corral."

* * *

Harris saw two rushing figures coming from house. He spun and fired twice. Both figures dropped to the ground and returned fire as he slid around to the far side of the limo. He had good cover, they did not. One was still up on the porch and partially concealed by one of the support beams. The other was crouched by the stairs, receiving only minimal protection from the small hedge that ran along the porch front.

Raising his weapon to fire again, a voice from behind said, "Hold it. FBI! Drop the gun! Drop it!" Reynolds shouted.

With the voice behind him distracting him, he didn't notice the rapid approach of someone on his other side. "NYPD! I'd do as he says ... because if you don't it do it in about five seconds I won't be held responsible for what my partner does." Bobby shouted.

Eames joined him off to the side, "He's right, I really don't like some joker taking pot shots at me."

Harris stared down the barrel of the first man, knowing there were at least two more pointed at his back. Harris tossed his gun over the trunk of the limo before dropping down to kneel on the ground.

"Keep going... all the way down. Hands out to the side." Eames directed him from several feet away, gun still held at the ready as were Bobby's and the FBI man's weapons.

At the sound of running feet coming up behind him, Bobby turned, weapon at the ready. "Whoa, whoa, whoa...." Bobby said.

The man came to a skidding stop, arms raised, "FBI!" he screamed, "I'm on the job, FBI!"

Bobby nodded his understanding and waved the man forward, weapon still trained on the man. "Come ahead then. Slowly..."

"I'm going to drop my weapon. Just... just don't shoot, man. Reynolds will you tell this guy who I am..."

"Goren? You're Goren right?" He didn't receive a reply, but continued speaking. "We're FBI, Special Agents Maxwell and Reynolds. We were assigned to observe and report on the meeting with Sir Nigel Whitledge here. It's not everyday the British Home Secretary sneaks into the country and quietly asks for the FBI's help."

"Observe and report... seems like this is a little bit more than observe and report."

"When the first man went man went down, we had a crime... we could finally act, without violating orders." Reynolds shouted.

With the reminder that this standoff really wasn't the four of them, the four turned to take in the scene of the shooting. What they saw was not only Nigel and Hope kneeling beside the wounded men, but Lewis and Gina as well.

"How many people are here?" Maxwell asked in disbelief. This had to be one of the least secure meets he'd ever seen.

Lewis called out, "Bobby, I already called the fire department and their paramedic unit is on the way out as well as ambulances." Looking dazed, he took in the cars and guns and bodies in his yard, "What the hell happened here? What's going on?"

Without meaning to, his gaze locked onto the shell-shocked gaze of Hope. Struggling to maintain a semblance of composure, she choked out. "It's because of me… this is all because of me." With tears streaming down her face, she looked around and imagined she could see the scene through Lewis' eyes. "I'm so… so… sorry." She turned and ran into the house.

Lewis turned his startled gaze to look at Bobby, "I didn't… I wasn't…" Gina stopped him from making matters even worse, silencing him by slapping him on his arm to get his attention. "Go into the house and get me all the ice and towels you can find. This guy is already coming around, but he's going to have an awful headache soon. He already has a heck of a knot on his head. But I don't think he should move around much until the paramedics check him over."

Bobby knelt down next to the gunshot victim, Sir Whitledge looked up and told him, "Danforth isn't conscious but his breathing seems steady and the pressure I've been applying on his wound seems to be stemming much of the blood flow." Sir Nigel had folded up his jacket and held it tight to the gunshot wound, using it to staunch the flow of blood.

As Lewis ran back into the house, Gina watched Bobby as he went over to see the other wounded man. She wanted him to go after Hope. Everything that could be done, was being done for both the victims and the shooter. Eames and the two FBI men had the shooter cuff and sitting on the ground, surrounded.

She saw Bobby run a hand through his hair and glance in the direction Hope had gone. When he remained there, unmoving, Gina couldn't keep quiet any longer.

Bobby..." Gina called out to him. "Bobby, we have this under control, why don't you go see to Hope." When he hesitated, she insisted, "Now, Bobby."

Bobby hesitated a moment longer, then began to walk towards the house, only to veer away from the front door and followed the building until he turned the corner at the end of the house.

"Where's he going?" A perplexed Lewis asked as he came back out of the house, carrying a couple of towels and blankets as well as ice he'd put into a plastic bag.

"Don't worry about Bobby. He knows where he's going… now. Help me, hold that ice to his head. Let's see what we can do about making these two a little more comfortable until the paramedics and ambulances get here."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

The assembled group turned as one to follow the sound of the approaching siren as it neared the turnoff. Lewis had already moved the limo so that it was no longer blocking the entrance to the driveway.

The paramedic unit was the first to arrive. The two medics grabbed their gear and ran to the closer of the two downed victims. Their first patient was a man with a gunshot wound where Danforth-Hayes lay. They hesitated when they saw all the firepower still on display. As they checked his vital signs and his wound, they were reassured by the man's steady pulse, but concerned by his labored breathing.

"Has he been unconscious the whole time?" One of the paramedics asked.

"No... but he didn't really seem to be aware of what was going on, before he passed out." Sir Nigel answered.

"How about his breathing, has there been much change in that?" The medic continued to question.

"It seemed to get worse in the last five minutes or so..." Sir Nigel explained. "I'd say it's been about 20 minutes since he was shot.

The paramedic nodded as he reached for his stethoscope, and placing the chest piece on Danforth-Hayes side, he listened to the man's breathing. Talking to his partner he said, "He must be bleeding into the lung... we need to get this guy out of here. How far out is that ambulance?"

"Maybe five minutes..." his partner said. "You stay with him, I'll go check on the other one.

Richardson was conscious and had convinced Gina and Lewis that he was better off sitting up. Reluctantly, they had helped him up so that he was now leaning up against the side of Eames' car.

"How are you doing buddy?" The paramedic asked as he knelt down beside him. "What happened here? That's a nasty gash you got there..."

"I've been better." Richardson replied. "I was hit over the head with that man's gun." Richardson pointed to the man, sitting on the ground, handcuffed and watched by two men with guns. _Where had all these people come from?_

"Okay, I see…" He followed Richardson's gaze, and saw two in the group on cell phones. Let's get you checked out a little..." He pulled out his penlight and shone it into both of Richardson's eyes. "Okay, look straight ahead… good." As he reached into his medical kit for some saline, he asked, "Can you tell me your name?"

"Richardson, James Richardson."

"Good. It's nice to me you James, I'm Peter."

"It's a pleasure." Richardson said sarcastically.

Amused, Peter replied, "I'm sure it is." Flashing the light into the man's eyes again, he muttered, "good... good. Pupils are equal and reactive, that's always a good sign. Okay, with your left hand I want to squeeze mine as tight as you can. Now, with your right... good, that's very good. We'll get you to the hospital and patched up. Your head wound doesn't look too serious, but I'm sure they'll want to get some x-rays at the hospital. I think you're going to be fine, just a couple of stitches for that gash and some Tylenol for the massive headache you're going to have."

"Already have, you mean." Richardson looked over the paramedic's shoulder and saw the group hovering around his partner. "What about my partner? How's he doing?"

Peter looked back over his shoulder. "Well, it is a gunshot wound, that's never good, but it seems to have missed the major organs although it seems there's some bleeding into the lung. My guess is that he should be fine - but that it's going to take him a little longer to get there than it will for you."

Richardson nodded, before closing his eyes and leaning his head back. It wasn't long after that the faint sounds of the ambulance captured everyone's attention.

* * *

_Get away... Get away from everything... Run! Don't let it catch up to you! _ Those were the only thoughts running through her brain as she ran across the field. She thought she heard someone call her name, but she couldn't be bothered to stop her headlong pursuit of the easy life she'd envisioned watching the deer graze at the wood's edge yesterday. _If I can just get there... everything will be okay... everything will be the way it was..._

_Everything will be the way it was. The way it was supposed to be.

* * *

_

When Bobby turned the corner of the house, he had expected to see Hope sitting on the stone fence, staring off into the copse of trees that they had seen the deer emerge from yesterday. He was surprised to discover that she wasn't. About to go into the house, he scanned the open field behind the house. It was then he saw her racing through the field, heading for the tree line.

"Hope! Stop!" He shouted, even though he doubted she would be able to hear him. With a sigh, he broke into a jog to follow her. He wasn't worried about losing her in the woods. She would soon He realized her run was spurred on by the adrenaline rush fear, anger and frustration at the events of the last few days and the new revelations of her late husband's actions.

By the time he caught up to Hope, she sat slumped against a tree, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, hugging them close to her.

Approaching from the edge of the field, he came forward slowly, dropping to one knee when he was beside her. After her initial shock and flight across the field, he was somewhat surprised at her now quiet and withdrawn posture. A lifetime of dealing with his mother's manic expressions of fear and panic did little to prepare him for Hope's muted response and required skills he had never mastered.

"Hope..."

Her only response was to continue rocking as she pulled her knees tighter to her chest. He reached out for her shoulder, simply resting his hand on her shoulder, hoping the simple gesture would be reassuring. She didn't shrink away from his touch - as his mother had often done - she merely accepted it as something she couldn't avoid.

Realizing she was in no shape to return to the scene or people at the house, he was glad of the precaution he had taken in moving Lewis' old Blazer out to the road. Exhaling forcefully he muttered, "Okay... okay, we're going to get out of here. You don't have to worry about anyone seeing you." This wasn't the situation he had envisioned when he had done so; but was thankful for his tendency to over think things.

"I'm going to go up to the road and drive the Blazer back here, pick you up and drive you back to New York." He could hear cars passing by on the nearby road and figured he wouldn't have too much of a walk.

"It shouldn't take me long to get back with it." Looking closely at her, he added, his voice laced with concern, "Hope, are you going to be okay until I get back?"

There was no reply from Hope; no acknowledgment that he'd even spoken.

He pressed, "Hope... Answer me. Are you going to be all right until I come back?" His now insistent tone must have registered with her. Slowly, she raised her head and nodded at him.

The haunted look in her eyes shot through him, constricting his heart. He reached out and brushed at the strands of hairs stuck to her tear and sweat-stained face as she nodded again and finally found her voice. "Yes... I'll, I'll be fine. Just... just get me out of here. I don't want to go back there... don't want to... I can't do this, any of this."

"You don't have to." Gently he rubbed her cheek with his thumb. He tried to get her to meet his eyes again, but she refused. Admitting defeat, her stood and watched her for several moments before nodding his understanding at her unspoken implication. He not only had the feeling that she had closed a door, but that she had slammed it shut ... on him.

Tightly, he told her, "I'll be right back." This time not asking for or receiving a reply he turned and hurried off towards the sound of the cars rushing by on the road... seemingly in a different world than the one he now found himself in.

Hope possessed neither the strength nor inclination to acknowledge his words or his departure, as she remained slumped against the tree, knees tightly held to her chest.

* * *

The ambulance arrived at the tail end of a police escort consisting of the local sheriff and several of his deputies. As the paramedics and ambulance attendants administered to the needs of the two victims, law enforcement personnel huddled around the handcuffed man still sitting on the ground. After a very brief accounting of the events and an introduction to Great Britain's Home Secretary, Sheriff Stanley sent his men back to their patrol routes and quickly and gratefully ceded any jurisdictional concerns over to the federal agents.

Not long after the sheriff's hasty departure with the ambulance, Harris was hustled into the back of agent's SUV as Maxwell pulled up into the drive. Eames had stepped back several paces, her efforts unneeded.

Alex watched as Reynolds slammed the door on Harris' vocal protestations. Catching her eye, he winked conspiratorially at her. The simple gesture brought a smile of recognition to her face. She had done the same in similar situations a number of times.

Agent Reynolds walked over towards her, his hand outstretched. As the two shook hands, he said, "Well Detective, we'll be going now. We're taking Harris down to One Federal Plaza and notifying the British Embassy. While we have him in custody, we'll try to question him..."

"But, without knowing anything about what's going on..." Alex finished.

Smiling, he nodded, "Exactly. Anything that we do discover, I'll see to it that it gets to you and your partner." He glanced at the spot where they had seen first the girl and then him disappear into the stand of trees.

"I appreciate that." Alex pressed her lips together as she nodded.

"About your partner..."

"Um," Alex ran a hand through her hair, "that's... that's nothing to worry about. That will sort itself out." _I hope…_

Reynolds looked doubtful, but let it pass. "Just understand it's highly unlikely we'll have much of a chance to talk to him before the Brits whisk him away." They had all seen Sir Whitledge on his cell phone, presumably on a call with the British Embassy.

Alex continued nodded, "Anything you can do. Bobby... my partner is going to have a lot of questions in the morning. "

Nigel had ended his call and walked over to join them. Quietly he asked, "I assume you'll be taking him to your federal holding facility in New York?"

"That's correct, Sir Whitledge. Downtown, 20 Federal Plaza."

Nodding thoughtfully, Nigel said, "That's what the embassy assumed. Understand that British security personnel will be awaiting your arrival with all the necessary documents to take custody of him.

Reynolds smirked as he replied, "... just about what I expected."

"National security issues; British national security issues." Nigel explained lamely.

"Of course. Well, we'd better get a move on then, we wouldn't want to keep British security personnel waiting." Reynolds nodded brusquely before turning on his heel and climbing into the SUV. He forcefully closed the car door as Maxwell turned the key in the ignition. Before putting the car in gear, Maxwell raised his hand in salute to Eames and Whitledge.

Seeing the gesture from the corner of his eye, Reynolds remarked, "British security will be waiting for us at Federal Plaza."

"Great." Maxwell spit out. "So we won't have a chance to question him. We're never going to know what went on out here today."

From the back, the two agents heard Harris' British-accented words, "Don't take it so hard. I wasn't going to tell you anything, anyway. Whatever I may or may not have done, it has nothing to do with the United States, just the United Kingdom and its failed imperialist policies in the mid-east. But you would do well to pass even that much on to your President, you would do well learn from the failures of the British government... gentleman. I doubt that I am alone in my sentiments, I'm sure there are quite a few American who feel the same towards your government."

The two FBI agents exchanged puzzled looks before turning onto the main road and heading into New York to make their delivery.

* * *

It didn't take Bobby long to get back with the Blazer. Bobby helped Hope to the car, opened the side passenger door, and encouraged her to lie down. He covered her with a slightly musty smelling blanket he'd found in the tail section. Hope's near catatonic lack of response worried him and he considered driving directly to the hospital.

She seemed to sense his thoughts. She caught his stare in the rear view mirror, quietly but forcefully saying, "I just… want to go home. I don't want to see… anyone. I don't need to see… anyone. I just need to get home."

It wasn't long before he realized Hope had fallen asleep. Reaching for his cell phone, he hit the speed dial…

Eames answered after the first ring,_ "Bobby, where are you?"_

"Hope and I are on our way back into New York. She wasn't in any condition to deal with the situation back there… I'm sorry, Alex. Sorry to drop this all on you."

_"You were concerned about Hope's welfare, I... I can appreciate that. She's obviously very upset. Everything here is fine, don't worry about this end of things."_ She continued to assure him that everything was fine and filled him in on everything that happened. Especially how it looked like Harris was going to wind up back in England before they could get any information about what happened.

_"Don't worry about things here. I'm waiting up here with Sir Whitledge until his new security detail arrives. The British Embassy is choppering them in. As soon as they get here, I'm leaving to drive back into the city. I think Gina and Lewis have decided to stay up here." _

"Um, look, I'll give you a call tomorrow morning… ahh, I'm not sure what …"

_"Don't worry about anything Bobby. I'm sure that the Captain will still be a little accommodating about your schedule since the Feds and Brits are still be involved. But, I'll talk to you sometime tomorrow, all right?"_

"Yeah… sometime tomorrow." Bobby paused for a moment before adding, "Thanks Alex. I know I owe you." _I owe you so much..._

* * *

Gina and Lewis were finally alone at the house now. Not long before they had watched in shock as a helicopter landed in the field behind the house, staying on the ground only long enough to allow Sir Whitledge to board and leave another man to drive the limo back to the embassy. The rapid departure of both Whitledge and the limo was somehow anti-climactic and had left Alex, Gina and Lewis feeling oddly on edge. It wasn't long before Alex was saying her goodbyes and leaving to drive back into New York.

Wandering around the house aimlessly, Gina feeling strangely nervous, loudly announced, "I'm going to make some coffee."

Lewis had been standing at the same window where Eames had kept her watch. Although he and Gina stayed out of sight and out of everything that had gone down here today, there wasn't much chance that either had missed anything that had happened. They couldn't avoid hearing the raised voices, or witnessing Hope's reaction to everything that had taken place.

She had looked so lost and fragile when she ran into the woods that Lewis had almost followed Bobby when he took off in pursuit of her. Gina had held him back with a shake of her head. It was a great relief to Lewis when Bobby had called his partner, and finding out that he and Hope were on their way back into the city.

Gina called out from the kitchen, "Hey, do you want some of this coffee?"

Instead of answering, Lewis turned away from the dark spot, the spot the result of a man bleeding on the drive. Lewis was still unnerved to have been involved, however slightly in something like this. How can Bobby subject himself to the possibility of this everyday?

Taking a deep breath, he went into the kitchen, and found Gina standing at the counter, watching as the last drops of water filtered through the coffee grounds. Stepping up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to him tightly. Placing his lips to her hair, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Grasping his hands, she loosened his grip on her, and she turned, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling his head down until his forehead rested on hers, "I'm sorry too. So... so sorry, I was just so worried about Bobby... but after hearing..." tears came to her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks.

"Shhh... I know." Lewis tried to calm her. "I was too. And we took it out on each other. And then…" Lewis stopped himself, continuing in a slightly different direction, "We've just really lucky. Bobby never has been and it looks like Hope hasn't been too lucky lately."

Nodding in agreement, Gina wiped at her tears and said, "I'm still worried about Bobby... and now Hope too! I can't believe it... it's too much to deal with... it's... it's going to be too much..."

Lewis took a deep breath and considered what she'd just said. Stepping back, he held Gina at arm's length and looked into her eyes. Sadly, he could only agree with her.

"You might be right, babe. It might be too much, too soon. Too soon, since they met, too soon since his mom and Frank, but really, what can we do about any of this? Nothing. We should have realized that this morning and stayed out of it. What we can do is be there for Bobby regardless of how this plays out. If we're lucky we can be there for Hope too."

* * *

The way the road wound through the wooded countryside, Bobby was surprised to discover that the Blazer was only a few hundred yards from where he had left Hope waiting. It didn't take Bobby long to return to Hope. Bobby helped Hope to the car, opened the side passenger door, and encouraged her to lie down. He covered her with a slightly musty smelling blanket he'd found in the tail section. Her near catatonic lack of response worried him and he considered driving directly to the hospital.

She seemed to sense his thoughts. She caught his stare in the rear view mirror, quietly but forcefully saying, "I just… want to go home. I don't want to see… anyone. I don't need to see… anyone. I just need to get home."

Hope slept the entire drive back into the city. She woke to the sound of squealing tires, horns honking and Bobby's cursing. Slowly she sat up and stared at blocked traffic ahead. Sensing her peering over his shoulder, Bobby turned slightly, "Just rush hour traffic. We'll be moving again soon, with this traffic it should only take us another fifteen - twenty minutes to get back to the apartment."

Nodding, she vaguely acknowledged his statement, before laying her head on the window and closing her eyes again.

She sensed him turn and felt his eyes on her.

Seeing her open her eyes, Bobby began, "Hope..."

"Please, Bobby." She pleaded as she closed her eyes again. She could feel his frustration as he exhaled forcefully. She was just so tired.

Trying to vent some of that frustration on the stalled traffic in front of him, he repeatedly pounded on the horn until traffic began to move.

Twenty minutes later Bobby pulled the Chevy Blazer into his assigned parking slot at the apartment building. Turning off the ignition, he returned both hands to the steering wheel and gripped it tightly, resting his forehead on his hands, trying to see how this was going to play out.

Hope watched him from the backseat in the dim light of the garage. She was feeling guilty for bringing him into her problems. Problems she hadn't known existed, but problems that could have gotten him killed. Problems that had gotten him shot at. She started it all with those foolish letters. Those silly foolish letters that she had no business writing to a stranger - which is what he'd been - no matter how compelling the compulsion to do so. In reality, they were still both just strangers to each other, even though the beginning of something else had been within their reach. Part of her wanted to reach out to him, to tell him everything was going to be fine. Part of her didn't believe it would be.

Lost in her thoughts she didn't see him look up into the rearview mirror, but soon felt his scrutiny. "We should go up…" he said when their eyes met. She nodded and reached for the door handle. It required all her strength to push open the door. Exhausted beyond endurance, she stumbled and swayed threateningly as she stood.

"Whoa... slow down. There's no hurry." Bobby came rushing around the car to steady her and help her to the elevator.

She nodded, but stepped away from him when she felt steady on her feet, leaving him to follow behind her.

She held the elevator door for him, but retreated to the side of the car and stared at the floor when he entered. He leaned against the other side of the car, hands in his pockets, head back, staring at the ceiling. He felt the walls closing in on him. _How am I going to stop this from happening?

* * *

_


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: It has been far too long since I updated this story. I wasn't sure how to continue it. This chapter just came to me.... finally. I hope you like it. I hope you haven't given up on this story yet.

* * *

Chapter 19

Bobby sat at the dining table and watched as Hope slept across the room. She had slid into sleep minutes after returning from taking a shower. Her cat, Quills had curled up next to her and she held the cat like a child with a favored talisman, protecting her from evil.

He winced as he took a sip from the bitter and cold coffee in front of him. Quills caught the movement and seemed to offer up a soft _meow_ of encouragement. Bobby snorted softly as he stroked at the days' growth of beard.

For the first time all day, he had the time to reflect on the days' events. The revelations of the day had struck them both hard. The only affected him tangentially - since he had come to care deeply about Hope and her well-being. But especially Hope, to discover the truth about her husband had struck her hard and wounded her deeply. Since then he had felt her pulling away from his ever since Nigel Whitledge walked in the house. He wondered if it was just the overwhelming events of the day or an indication of a deeper withdrawal.

He stretched and let his gaze take in the room, not really focusing on anything, until his eyes stopped at her desk. He knew there would be pen and paper there. He was tired but not sleepy. He leaned forward, slowly pushed himself up and walked over to the desk. Pulling out the chair, he eased himself into it. Opening the center draw he found the same paper and pens Hope had used to write her letters to him. Drawing out several sheets of paper and one of the pens, he rubbed at his heavy stubble on his cheeks, before leaning forward to start writing his own letter...

_Who could have predicted this turn of events? That I would be the one to feel the need, the pull to take pen to paper, to pour my thoughts out to you. I'm finally seeing the world in a different way - thanks to you - and you're seeing it through a renewed veil of tears and pain - thanks to me. Here we are now and you're the one who is lost. I see your hurt, I see your tears and know there is nothing I can do, but let you go through the tears and the pain. And to let you know I am here._

_With me it was the knowledge of the events of a life not my own that left me feeling betrayed and deserted in a deep and dark place. There was no one who was able to keep me from that precipitous descent. Do not allow the knowledge of the events of a life not your own to take the life that is yours from you. Let me be here to keep you from following the path I took. _

_Even in these few short hours since all that has happened and been learned today, I can feel you pulling away from your life, shrinking away from me. I beg of you, follow a different course. Every moment that we've spent together in these precious few days has seen each one become the new greatest moment of my life, and I will treasure each and every one forever. It is too soon though for these to exist merely in the past. It is the exhilarating thrill of anticipation of the next greatest moment that has finally cast aside my thoughts of missed opportunities and regret. _

He read over what he'd just written. He'd intentionally tried to mimic the 19th century tone of her letters to him. He hoped it didn't ring false. Folding the sheet of paper in half, he rose and balanced it against the half full mug of tea he'd made for Hope, which she'd barely sipped before falling asleep. He watched her for a minute longer, again attracting Quill's attention. The feline meowed softly and without thinking Bobby reached out to scratch the top of its head, before turning away to leave the apartment. He was torn between not wanting her to wake up alone and not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable with his presence when she woke.

As he quietly closed the door behind him, he sneezed repeatedly. With a last glance at the closed door, he turned and walked to the elevator.

* * *

The repeated buzzing at his front door finally roused Bobby from a fitful sleep. Groggily he stumbled to his feet and looked at the clock on his way to answer the door. _7:30._ He'd slept for nearly three hours.

"Yeah... hang on. I'm coming." Pulling the door open, he was surprised to see Sir Nigel Whitledge standing in front of him, shaved, showered and impeccably dressed. He wondered what the man thought of his disheveled appearance.

"Detective Goren, I realize it's early, but if I could have just a moment of your time."

Bobby nodded, stepping aside to allow the man to enter as he muttered, "Sure..." _ What did Sir Nigel need from him? _

Nigel slowly advanced into the room. Bobby watched him silently. Nigel continued to the window, staring out into the early morning light. Indicating the view outside the window, he asked, "Which one is..." hesitating for a moment, "...Hope's?"

Not answering, Bobby asked, "What do you want, Sir Nigel? "

"So much for pleasantries. Right down to it. Cut to the chase. That's the American Way. All right, then. I came to ask you how she... how Hope is doing. I admit, I was surprised to hear you'd left her alone."

Bobby bristled at the implication. "Hope is doing pretty much how you would imagine. Not so good." Bobby joined Sir Nigel at the window and glanced towards Hope's apartment, hoping to see signs of activity. He didn't.

"I imagine this complicates ... things between you." Nigel turned to see the effect of his words.

Bobby brought his arms up across his chest, but didn't answer.

"You're right. It is not any business of mine. Other than, I do care about her… Hope's welfare. And have done so, for a very long time." Still met with Bobby's silence, Nigel turned back to stare out the window before cautiously continuing. "I know about the letters, I've known about them since they began." He glanced up quickly when he sensed Goren tense. "I can imagine that the... the connection between you two is deeper than the relatively short amount of time since you met would normally suggest." He wasn't going to admit to the rather intimidating detective that he had received copies of the letters, not just Hope's to him, but his to her as well. Or that he had read them.

Glancing again at the still silent man, "I came here in the hope of asking for your assistance in ..."

"In watching Hope for you."

"Yes... but much more than watching Hope, as you say. I need your assistance in protecting Hope. There's still..."

Bobby held out a hand to silence him. "I think you should leave. Now." Bobby turned and began to walk back to the door.

"No, Detective Goren." Sir Nigel's voice boomed. He was Britain's Home Secretary, and was used to a certain amount of deference. "I will not leave until you have heard me out. Hope could still be in a great deal of danger. In fact, I doubt that yesterday's events have changed things very much at all."

Bobby stopped in his tracks and turned back to face the diplomat.

"You must understand that what I am about to tell you is a complete breach of security and all highly classified. If what I'm about to tell were ever to become public knowledge, there would be hell to pay. I have been briefed on both your military service records and your career as a police officer. I believe that in telling you these things, I have made the only choice available to me. I feel I have very little recourse but to trust you implicitly."

Nigel took a deep breath and expelled it forcefully before continuing. He was pleased to see the look of shock on Goren's face quickly being replaced by one of understanding. _This might be easier than I thought._

"The people I have trusted to protect Hope until now, are very likely compromised. I will not trust just anyone with her safety. I know how dangerous the opposition can be and I find myself in the position of having little choice but to trust you."

"The likelihood of danger to Hope is still very real. We believe that she possesses the account passwords for two Saudi bank accounts with balances totally over £20,000,000. The proceeds of illicit arms and information sales and we further believe that the man responsible will not come after Hope himself."

Bobby watched, as Sir Nigel seemed to age before him. Slowly the man lowered himself into a chair.

"The man after those passwords is my son. David is still alive. And he is a traitor."

Sir Nigel's revelation rocked Bobby back on his heels. He sat down heavily, in a chair opposite the man. His mind racing as he stared down at the rug under his feet.

"How is it that Hope believes…"

"That David died in the attack?" Sir Nigel finished. "There was certainly enough circumstantial evidence to suggest it. He shielded her from the attack. An attack that we have for some time believed David planned with the intent to kill her. After the attack and her recovery, it seemed a good strategy to have her believe that fantasy. The life she had known was over. David had vanished along with his accomplice."

"Paul Harris." Bobby stated.

Nigel nodded. "That's one of the name's he has gone by." Nigel continued with his narrative, "As I'm sure you are aware, there are drugs that make the mind susceptible to suggestion. Most of what Hope 'remembers' about the days immediately before the attack have been 'suggested' to her for her own protection."

"So, you don't suspect Hope of any involvement…" Bobby leaned forward, his interest and concern now piqued.

"… with the traitorous acts of my son. No, I do not. Neither does any agency of the British government. She tried to contact me several times in the days before the accident and attack. I mistakenly assumed it was a personal matter and put off calling her back. A decision I obviously regret immensely. I was in the middle of very tense negotiations and…" His excuse died on his lips as he remembered the unreturned phone calls. "Several days after the attack, I received a computer disc from Hope. She had already been transported back to London, by this time. It contained scanned copies of documents, documents containing information about the security arrangements of British national interests, both in Great Britain and abroad. It also contained the names of covert agents and their cover identities. Information that David had been or was about to sell. We quickly pulled our agents out, crippling our intelligence efforts for years to come, and set about changing our security protocols."

"But the damage was done." Bobby had turned his gaze to the window and stared out at the limited skyline he could see. "So, for the past several years, have you been protecting Hope or using her as bait to lure David after her?"

"I'm not proud to admit that it is, of necessity, a bit of both." Nigel admitted. "There's no going back. We must now assume that David knows that she is here in New York. Unfortunately, I led him right to her. Saljah Salid, or Paul Harris as you know him, surely would have contacted David."

"Is… was Salid involved with the attack in Cairo?"

"We continued to watch him, but he never gave us any indication that he was or that he was in contact with anyone who was. But there is now no way to know for sure."

Bobby looked up quickly as Sir Nigel continued, "Saljah Salid ingested cyanide during his transfer to British custody just over," he paused as he looked down at his watch, "four hours ago."

Bobby stared back at the man, not knowing what to say.

* * *

Hope woke suddenly, startled by the raspy ministrations of Quills tongue licking at her face. Confusion assaulted her. The last memory she had was of Nigel arriving at the cabin retreat of Bobby's friends. How did she get back to her apartment, and why was she on the sofa? Where was Bobby?

She sat up slowly, as Quills nudged her to more. "I get it… you want to be fed, don't you?"

She saw the note with her name on it propped up against her favorite mug. Reaching for it as she stood and…

Everything that happened yesterday slammed into her with a physical force that doubled her up and dropped her to her knees. The pain so sharp and piercingly intense it caused her to cry out. Dry heaves crumpled her to her hands and knees and she began to crawl towards the bathroom. Tears streamed down her face as she slid down even further, until she lay on the floor curled into a fetal position to protect herself from the pain and the memories. She felt the room going dark.

* * *

"She has to be told. She needs to know the danger she could be in and she deserves to know the truth about what happened and her role in it."

"I have wrestled with this for sometime now," Seeing Goren about to object, he held up his hand to stop him. "but, I believe you are right. It may even be time to see if she can remember the passwords."

Bobby looked up in surprise. "We did try to get the passwords from her after the accident. She didn't remember them. Amongst the documents included on the disc she sent me, she included the information that she had learned of David's secret accounts and had transferred the funds to the Saudi banks. She didn't provide the account numbers or passwords. We've assumed she believed the information would keep her alive if David ever found out. When we discovered she had no memory of them, we did what we could to protect her, part of that included suggesting that she had no idea about David's activities."

Hope woke to the sound of loud pounding. Through the door she could hear Bobby shouting her name. Weakly she called out, "coming. I'm coming."

She doubted he could hear her over the pounding, so she tried again. Calling out in a slightly stronger voice, "I'm coming."

The door slammed open before she reached it, and Bobby was propelled into the room by the force used to break down the door. Startled, she staggered back.

Shocked, she shouted at him, "I… I said I was coming."

Bobby reached her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She felt her confusion sliding away. Comprehension hit her almost as forcefully as her earlier pain. The pain of yesterday's events was slowly easing its grip on her. She remembered the devastating details, but the pain was receding into a dull ache. In a flash of understanding, she realized the important role Bobby had played, not just yesterday, but in the days and months leading up to it.

Almost as one, they said, "It's going to be all right."

"I hope you are right, but that remains to be seen." Startled, Hope turned to see Nigel standing in the doorway.

"We have a great deal to discuss, Hope. I don't feel that this is the place to do it, though. We should go."

Hope looked up at Bobby, who merely nodded his agreement.

"Where?" She asked as she saw the look pass between the two men.

"One Police Plaza." Sir Nigel answered.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

Alex was spending her morning been fielding calls from the media about the incident and shooting in upstate New York. She'd love to know how her name and Bobby's had gotten attached to that – the one real piece of reporting she'd read about it, only mentioned the FBI and the British government working in concert to apprehend a 'person of interest' in the death of a diplomat in Cairo several years ago. A little of the truth, a little subterfuge, but it hadn't contained even a hint about her or Bobby or even who owned the cabin. After her first several calls, she'd called Lewis at his garage and warned him that he might be getting calls. He'd told her that a reporter had already stopped by the garage and that Gina had persuaded him it would be best if he left her property. She'd also called Bobby, but the call had gone straight to voicemail - a likely result of his already receiving the same media calls - and she hadn't heard from him yet.

As the phone on her desk began to ring yet again, Alex fantasized about pulling out her gun and putting the ringing menace out of her misery. Reaching for the receiver, she happened to look up just as Bobby, Hope and Sir Nigel exited the elevator and walked into the squad.

Her hand hung frozen in the air, halfway to the phone, when Bobby turned his gaze to her and nodded towards the interview rooms along the side of the room. Acknowledging his nod with one of her own, she stood and gratefully walked away from the ringing phone.

* * *

Sir Nigel noticed the short exchange between the two detectives. Speaking softly to Bobby, he turned towards the captain's office.

Alex saw all this as she approached the group. As Sir Nigel walked to the captain's office, she noted the unreadable expression on her partner's face. She'd seen that look on his face many times before, usually as every aspect of a case fell into place for him.

Once outside the captain's door, Nigel rapped twice on the door before entering. He turned and closed the door with a firm hand as the startled Ross looked up from the budget proposal he was working.

"Captain Ross, please forgive the interruption but I find myself in need of the skills of one of your officers. I realize there are official channels for this type of thing, but expediency demands a less complicated framework."

While he didn't have a clear understanding of exactly what went on upstate yesterday, he was aware of the ongoing nature of the situation to which the British Home Secretary was referring. He had been at the bottom of the list of recipients of a joint British Intelligence and FBI report about what had occurred yesterday. He knew from experience that the report he'd read only glossed over the surface of events. Quickly, he stood and came around the desk and leaned against it as he spoke, "Of course, Sir Whitledge, whatever the NYPD or my squad can do to assist you, consider us at your disposal."

"Thank you Captain. For now, I believe all that I require will be the assistance of Detectives Goren and Eames."

The captain looked out at his squad room to see Goren escorting a woman he assumed was Hope Thornton, to one of the interview rooms with Eames angling across the room to meet them at the door.

"Of course, Sir Whitledge. Whatever you need," Ross paused before adding for emphasis, "don't hesitate to let me know."

Nigel stood, looked the police captain in the eye and acknowledged the man's comments with a curt nod. As he extended his hand, he said, "Thank you, Captain Ross. After the two men shook hands acknowledging their agreement – both spoken and unspoken, Nigel excused himself, saying, "I'm afraid I must ask Detective Goren for his assistance in explaining a… a great deal to my daughter-in-law."

Watching the scene outside his office, Danny reached behind him and picked up his phone. From memory he dialed the Chief of Detective's direct line.

* * *

After seeing Hope into the interview room and getting her, Bobby excused himself on the pretext of getting coffee.

Hope nodded slowly, replying mechanically, "Light, no sugar." She followed Bobby with her eyes as he turned to open the door.

Stopping with his hand wrapped around the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder and shot her a crooked smiled, "I remembered."

Hope looked up, smiled sadly, and slowly nodded. He noted the lack of genuine affect associated with a smile. She had shown a moment of spirit when he and Sir Whitledge first showed up at her apartment, he had witnessed her reactions and interest in her surroundings dulling. Considering the tale Whitledge was going to tell her now, he feared her reaction. He witnessed her near catatonic reaction just yesterday. Coming so soon on the heels of that extreme reaction, the possibility of a breakdown was a concern that was weighing on him. He couldn't see any way of avoiding it. He was going to have to let Nigel Whitledge take the lead on this play.

He tried for an encouraging smile, "I'll be right back with that coffee, 'light, no sugar'."

Hope watched him through the slats of the blinds on the glass walls of the interview room. She felt weighted down, as if wrapped in a wet blanket, her senses dull and her emotions dampened. She saw his partner, Alex catch up with him. She knew he was telling her things she didn't know. Yet. She felt certain another shoe was about to drop.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket and felt the folded sheet of paper, she had been about to read when Bobby and Nigel burst into her apartment. She slid her index finger across the folded edge, repeatedly back and forth. She was anxious to read it contents, desperately so, and yet fearful at the same time. She knew what she wanted it to say, but feared what she thought it said. Her rather routine and sedate life had taken a dramatic turn in the last week, since she met Bobby. She couldn't, and wouldn't blame Bobby if the note he'd written contained what she feared it did. It was a lot for someone to take on, for someone who'd just been through as much as he had, especially for someone who was a relative stranger. She bent her head as she started to pull out the page, quickly pushing the sheet back into the pocket at the sound of a tapping on the door. She swung her head up to see Nigel push open the door.

* * *

Alex listened intently as Bobby gave her the condensed version of the tale Nigel Whitledge had told him earlier. When he finished, he looked nonplussed - unsure of his next move or word.

"This is unbelievable. What if you're wrong?" Alex asked as she stared into the interview room at Hope. "The captain briefed me this morning on the report the FBI submitted to the Commissioner this morning. Apparently, a lot was left out of that report. Ross filled me in enough to help me field any media calls that got past the department spokesperson," pausing for a moment she then added venomously, "which seemed to be most of them."

"Those FBI guys from yesterday… do you know who either of them were?"

"One of them, Reynolds, we spoke a little. He seemed willing to keep us in the loop. I'll try to reach him and see what, if anything he can tell us. Or if he can – unofficially - point us in the right direction." They both saw Whitledge leave the captain's office and walk over to the interview room. "You should get in there."

Bobby picked up the coffee – the pretext he'd used to talk to Alex. "Find out what you can, as fast as you can, Alex."

* * *

Hope was running her hands through her hair as Bobby entered the room. He heard her muttering, "I don't understand. I don't…" She looked up at him as he set the cup down in front of her. He could see the confusion in her eyes, and he put his other hand on her shoulder, in an effort to comfort her.

"Do… did you know about this?" Seeing the answer in his face, Hope shrunk away from his touch. "How long have you known?"

"My dear, I only just confided in Detective Goren before we showed up at your door." Nigel interjected.

"How much have you told her?" Nigel and Hope sat on opposite sides of the table. Bobby pulled up a chair and sat at the end of the table.

"How much has he told me?" Her startled look took in both men. "How much is there to tell me?" She asked unable to keep the quavering note of fear out of her voice.

_Time to go for broke… _

Nigel started to respond, but Bobby spoke up over him, "I was just wondering if he led with the revelation that David is still alive…"

_"What?!" _Hope whirled in her chair to face him. He knew Hope's shocked look would stay with him for a long time.

"Apparently David didn't die that night in Cairo. In fact, Sir Nigel believes that David is behind the attempt at Lewis' yesterday and is the reason why he's had you watched for the last three years."

_"DE-tective…" _Nigelsprung up from his chair and started to come around the table to reach Hope.

"…or whether he admitted to drugging you to get information from you?" Bobby stood too, blocking Whitledge. "Sit down, _Sir_ Whitledge."

"I… I don't understand. Drugging me, I … I don't have any information. What kind of information?" Hope stared at the confrontation playing out in front of her as seeds of anger began to take root in the pit of her stomach.

"The account numbers and passwords, Hope. The Saudi bank accounts where David had squirreled away £20,000,000."

"What are you talking about?" Hope's head was spinning. "David's alive? No, I was there, I… I saw him. It's not possible. He, he's dead. And £20,000,000? There were no bank accounts, no money."

"Why would Sir Nigel tell me these things if they weren't true? What would he stand to gain by telling me these things?" Bobby turned away from Whitledge to look at Hope as he spoke. "He also told me that through a combination of drugs and hypnosis 'they' planted suggestions to you about that night. Those suggestions have become your memory."

"I have nothing to gain in lying, Hope. But I had wanted to bring this up more gently." Nigel took a moment to straighten his suit jacket and tie. Returning to his seat, he glared up at Goren. "I took it for granted that the detective wouldn't want to see you unduly stressed." He took a moment to compose himself before continuing.

"You tried to contact me before the attack. I didn't return your calls." Raising his eyes to meet hers, he continued. "After the attack, I received a disc, from you. It detailed David's dealings with people interested in bringing down British interests, his amassing those two bank accounts."

Hope sat there, shaking her head in disbelief. Why was Nigel doing this? He had to know that David was dead. They'd sat together at a memorial in his honor. How could she make them understand that what they thought was true, wasn't. How could she make them believe that her memory was true?

Hope stood and began to pace. "No. I… I never sent you any discs. I _know_ what I saw, I _know_ what happened and I _know _what I did. But, I don't know what you're talking about, Nigel." Hope turned to see Bobby watching her. "I really don't know what he's talking about."

Bobby continued watching her silently, before softly saying, "I believe you Hope. I believe _in_ you.

* * *

Alex was taking notes as quickly as she could. The details Agent Reynolds was revealing were almost as startling as those that Bobby had just told her. Startling, but plausible given the events of the last several days.

As she set down her pen, Alex asked one question, "This is all verifiable?"

"If you're asking if I've seen all the evidence, then no, I haven't. I'm sure only a few in MI5, MI6 and maybe our State Department have. If you were asking if I believe that it's credible, I'd have to say yes. Cooperation at this level of involvement between MI5 and the FBI is - is unusual to say the least. My partner and I would never have been assigned to follow Whitledge unless someone higher up the chain hadn't been convinced."

Alex nodded, trying to put the puzzle pieces together before walking into the interview room.

_"Eames?"_

The sound of her name brought her out of thoughts. "Yes, I'm here. Sorry, I was just thinking."

"I asked if you would be able to hold on to him, without letting on that you're holding him. I have to make a few phone calls."

"We're at One Police Plaza and he's with my partner. Nigel Whitledge has no idea who he's dealing with." She looked up to see her partner and Whitledge, standing toe to toe. "But I think he's about to find out. Don't worry, we can hold him."

As she hung up, she muttered under her breath, _"The real question is not whether we can hold him, but whether you'll be able to get my partner to let him go…"

* * *

_

Alex opened the door without knocking. Without acknowledging either Whitledge or Hope, she walked over and handed Bobby the file folder containing the handwritten notes of her conversation with Agent Reynolds. As he reached for the folder, their eyes met and she nodded once, almost imperceptibly. As Alex took the last vacant chair, Bobby opened the folder briefly, too briefly to read anything in it. Closing the folder, he tossed it onto the table where it landed about halfway between Whitledge and himself.

Bobby held Whitledge's gaze as he asked, "Your son isn't still alive is he, Sir Whitledge?" He saw Whitledge shift his eye line to look at the folder lying between them. He kept his voice soft as he continued to question Whitledge, "How can you be so cold and detached about the life or death of your son? Why would you lie about something so… so painful, especially to his widow?"

Hope had back up against the wall and wrapped her arms around her, as she watched the two men continue their confrontation. She looked on horrified as Nigel began to explain his actions to her.

_What was in that folder? How much did he know? _Quickly, he decided on an alternative track, "I'm sorry Hope. Truly I am. I had to find out the level of your involvement in David's plans. I've never lied to you Hope. I admit that I haven't been as truthful with Detective Goren, but I never imagined he would so thoughtlessly blurt out such a painful and false allegation. I may have miscalculated his usefulness in being helpful to you during this situation."

"Your miscalculation was in assuming that I would take what you told me as truth. That I would assume anyone of your stature wouldn't lie about such painful and false allegations about your own son. That I would react emotionally, allowing emotion to cloud the facts. I grant you I don't have all the facts," as he placed his hand on the folder, Whitledge followed the motion with his eyes, "but I have enough to weigh truth against fiction. I'm pretty good at filling in the gaps."

"You're twisting this. It's not like that." Turning back to Hope, he pleaded, "It isn't what he's implying. Yes, I needed to know the level of your involvement. There are still some… unanswered questions about your conduct…"

"MY conduct. I didn't DO anything. I knew nothing about what David was doing. I don't know anything about any money."

"David wasn't doing anything, Hope." Alex spoke for the first time. She stood and walked over to Hope, speaking calmly, "It was Nigel all along." Alex began to see where some of Reynolds' revelations led. "There was a disc, not one _about_ David, but one sent _by_ David to his handler at MI6 - one that detailed his father's treasonous acts."

"That's not only a lie, it's laughable." Whitledge rose quickly, his chair screeching as it slid on the tiled floor. Alex reacted quickly, moving to stand in front of Hope, unsure of what Whitledge's next move would be.

Whitledge was fast, but Bobby was younger and faster. He stood and blocked Whitledge's retreat. "How do you go about arranging for the murder of your own son? What's the going rate for son's life, what portion of £20,000,000?"

He continued his explanations to Hope, "This isn't what it seems Hope. You're not getting the full story. I see that let my fear for your well-being has compromised my actions, what a foolish old man, I've become. I should never have involved Detective Goren. I should have protected you from him. I've seen his file, I know about his latent instabilities. I can't even begin to imagine how he was able to convince his partner to go along with this lunacy…"

Finally finding her voice, Hope spoke out, "STOP IT. Just stop it. You're right; I'm not getting the full story. Not from you," she glared at Nigel, "and not from you." Now her glare turned to Bobby. Her anger propelled her across the room towards the door. She felt Bobby's hand grab at her arm. Pulling away forcefully, she turned on him. Pulling out the note from Bobby, she crumpled it into a ball before saying. Breathing heavily, her white-hot rage subsiding to cold anger, she lashed out, "And I have absolutely no interest in what's inside this." She let the wadded up paper slip from her trembling fingers as she ran from the room.

Ross stepped out of her way as she rushed past him, two FBI agents, and the British Embassy's Consul General.

"Detectives, Secretary Whitledge, I believe you are acquainted with FBI Agents Reynolds and Maxwell," He pointed to the man, to his left and added, "and this gentleman is Alexander Grayson. I believe he has a message for Sir Nigel."

"Sir Nigel Whitledge, it is my duty to inform you that the British government has revoked your diplomatic status and pending further investigation you have been removed from your duties as Home Secretary as of three hours ago. You will be transported back to London to await the outcome of this investigation."

"You can't do this. You don't have the authority." Whitledge blustered.

"I have the signed authorization of…"

"You may be right about that Whitledge," a voice called out from behind the group in the doorway. "But my authority is absolute in this matter." All eyes turned to see a man step forward from the security detail that accompanied him.

"Prime Minister, this is easily explained…"

"Please, Nigel. Let's not play this game. As they say, 'the jig is up' old man. The jig is up." As he turned, he added, "Come, join me, Nigel. I'll see to it you get home safely. After that, well, we'll have to leave that to the fates, won't we?"

Two of the Prime Minister's security detail came forward to escort the now ex-Home Secretary out of the building.

* * *

Ross, the FBI agents, Alex and Bobby sat in Ross' office. The detectives listened as Agent Reynolds recounted the details of how the FBI came to be involved in the case against Nigel Whitledge. Alex listened Reynolds revealed that MI5 had been aware of some suspicious activity around Sir Whitledge for the last half dozen years. It wasn't until the death of his son that doubts had crystallized into a serious investigation resulting in documented evidence. David Whitledge had sent a computer disc to his handler at MI6, documenting his father's corruption. MI6 had never been able to verify whether Karen Whitledge had any knowledge about her father-in-law or the information discovered by her husband. It would seem now, that she didn't.

Reynolds continued, "She's the one true innocent in all this mess. Yet she seems to have paid the highest price. In all these years, that's the one thing I've never been able to reconcile, the high price paid by the innocent."

Bobby had sat quietly throughout, and he rose just as quietly and walked out of the room. All eyes turned as the door softly closed behind him.

"Even though not innocent, the not guilty often pay a high price too, a very high price." Eames stood and went after her partner. The three men looked exchanged looks. Sighing, Ross reached down into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. "I know it's a bit early, but any one want a drink?"

* * *

Alex found Bobby in the interview room. He sat coaxing the crumbled ball of paper to lie flat on the table in front of him. Quietly, she sat down. Several minutes past.

"Bobby…"

"Don't Alex. Everyone has a shot, right? Can't say that I didn't have mine, but when… but when it came down to it, when it was most important, I chose to be the detective. I had to solve the mystery, regardless of the personal consequences to 'the innocent'.

"Once she has a chance to calm down…"

"No, Alex. There's no coming back from this. Besides, what's it been, a week and a half? It isn't like either of us has invested a lot in this…"

"That's not true. I don't believe that for a second and neither do you." He'd made her angry now, and she lashed out at him, "It's been months since you told me about the first letter. I've seen the change in you. I know you were in a dark hole for a long time and I've seen you come a long way out of it. You're almost free of it, but if you let this end like this, you and I both know, you're going slide back down into that hole. You just said, 'everyone has a shot', and how many do you think we get? Do you really think you'll be able to crawl back out of the pit again, by yourself? Because… because I can't do that again. I won't go through that again." She stopped, to keep herself from choking on her words. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "One of you is really going to have to fight for this. She took a huge chance, a big leap of faith when she slid that first letter under your door. Now it's your turn, Bobby. Don't leave her hanging." She stood and left him, left him to stare after her.


	21. Chapter 21

Bobby leaned forward, head in his hands. Alex seldom read him the 'riot act', but when she did, he knew he'd pushed too far or too hard. He was feeling the all too familiar frustration at his inability to make people see, to let anyone see how much he needed. He stood, and walked from the room, past his desk, through the office, past the elevator to the stairway, slamming the door open. Escaping the building by leaving by the stairway, hadn't he done the same thing with Hope, just the other day?

Shaking his head, he wondered how often he was going to see reminders of doing 'the same thing with Hope, just the other day'. Was he going to be remembering a connection to similar random connections a month from now? A year from now? He prayed that he wouldn't.

Rubbing his hands roughly across his face, his gaze landed on one line of the note he'd written to Hope;

_I can feel you pulling away from your life, shrinking away from me._

Reading the words now, he wondered if he'd really intended those words for Hope or for himself. Bobby rubbed at his temples, hoping to purge all thought, all memory from him. Standing abruptly, he realized he knew just the place to help him with that.

* * *

Spurred on by her anger, Hope stalked several blocks before realizing what she was doing. She had never felt such blind rage, as she sat in that interview room, watching Nigel and Bobby rip down the walls of the world and life she'd known. Now she wasn't sure if it was her world or the illusion she'd built up around it that was falling at her feet. Unsure of who to direct her anger toward, started to lash out at both Nigel and Bobby. She felt she was out of control and her rage felt so unfocused that she quickly turned and fled.

Her steps slowed, as she began to survey her situation. She was in the middle of Manhattan, without a cell phone, without money, no ID, not even the keys to her apartment. She didn't even feel she had anyone that she could turn to now. Until now, she had always felt a measure of reassurance that if things ever got overwhelming, she could call David's father. So much for that. But other than him - she really was alone - more alone than she'd assumed Bobby to be. He had his partner; she had witnessed their closeness, their ability to know what the other was going to do. He had Lewis and Gina. And how many others? She assumed that because he was having a rough time of it, that he was alone. That really wasn't the case at all. He wasn't alone, she was. She hadn't been trying to save him; she'd been trying to save herself.

Feeling more defeated than ever before, she pushed herself off the wall and began her slow walk cross-town to her apartment. What she was going to do when she got there, she had no idea. Maybe close and lock the door and become a recluse.

* * *

Bobby stared at the image staring back at him in the mirror. Tipping back the bit of scotch, he didn't see who walked up beside him to drop an arm around his shoulders. As he started to pull back, he heard a familiar voice.

"You finding the answers in there," Lewis asked as he pointed to the now empty glass.

Bobby tilted his head and gave his friend a sidelong glance. He knew he shouldn't have answered his phone, and told Lewis where he was. Why did he, he asked himself automatically, mechanically. He wasn't feeling up to figuring out his motives just now, but he knew he was going to pay a price for it now.

"Naw, man. I'm not looking for answers. Hell, I'm fresh outta questions. Tryin' to forget a few things though," nodding to the bartender and pointing at his empty glass, he added, "and I'm well on my way."

Bobby was speaking very deliberately. Lewis knew this was a bad sign, and taking in his appearance he guessed that Bobby had probably been in this bar for most of the afternoon.

"Where's Hope?"

Bobby turned to his left to see Gina sitting on the stool next to him. "Gina! I didn't see you there. Let me buy you a drink…"

Gina shook her head, "I don't think so, Bobby. Just answer _my _question. Where's Hope?"

"Where's hope?" He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, "haven't you heard, there's no such thing as _hope_, my friend."

Gina looked over Bobby's head in time to see Lewis' face fall. They had both guessed this was going to be bad, but they'd undersetimated didn't know how bad.

Gina reached out and held on to his forearm. Softly, she asked, "What happened?"

Bobby started to tell them what happened today, but Lewis interrupted. "Wait, hang on. There's a table over there." Pulling Bobby to his feet, he added, "There's more privacy over there."

Gina and Lewis listened in shock as Bobby told them how circumstances had changed again. From the twisting and turning of facts and loyalties, Bobby pushing at Whitledge and Whitledge flailing, trying to convince Hope he was the one telling her the truth. Until Hope couldn't take it anymore and had run from the building just as Whitledge was handed over to British Intelligence. And … England's Prime Minister, no less.

"Well, what happened with Hope? Where is she?" Gina asked.

Bobby stared at her uncomprehendingly. Slowly and deliberately, he repeated, "She ran from the building. She ran from me."

Now it was Gina's turn to stare uncomprehendingly at him. "You didn't go after her? You haven't tried to find her, to see if she's okay?"

Her only answer was his continued blank stare. "I know I had to give you a nudge yesterday, but I'd have thought you would be able to remember what to do today, on your own."

Shaking her head in disgust, she continued, "Never let it be said that Bobby Goren runs from a challenging relationship. You're too busy holding the door open for the other person."

"Gina…" Lewis laid a hand on her arm.

She turned and flashed Lewis a warning look, tersely she said, "No, not this time."

Reaching out she laid a hand on Bobby's forearm. "Bobby," she said so softly, he had to lean closer to hear her, "you know I love you, but… I think your MO is obvious to everyone but you. As long as I've known you, you over-think every relationship – from your family, to your friends and especially, and most especially – girlfriends. Sometimes – at least with most of us – people have to _feel_ the way through, not think the way through life. If you don't start having a little faith in your feelings and stop running …"

Bobby started to stand, he wasn't going to sit here and take this, not after the last few days. "Hope's the one pushing me away. I've risked my life, your lives, my career and possibly an international incident to protect her. I'm not the one pushing…"

Gina looked up to the sky, imploring to the heavens with her hands as she asked, "Why did you make it so difficult for men to understand?"

Taking a deep breath and leaning forward she continued to push at him, "Bobby… yes, you did all this to protect her, to help her. Why did you do all this? Did you do it because that's who you are? Because that's the kind of man that you are? Or because you care about her?"

She saw his eyes clear and she knew he finally understood. "Have you told her it was because you love her? Because, I that's what it's going to take. It seems to me, that she needs someone to step up. Whether that someone is you or someone else, is up to you."

"Look Bobby, what Gina's trying to say…"

"I know what she's saying." Bobby said as he stood up and slid the chair back into place, "I just don't think I can do it." He turned and walked out of the bar, leaving his friends to watch him walk away… again.

* * *

As her ragged emotions and anger burned their way through her, her steps began to slow and her gaze turned outward. Rushing from the confrontation - going on within the building and within herself – without money or ID, she stalked the streets with a seething rage that slowly gave way to an uneasy quietness.

As she looked around at the people crowding the busy streets, many of them on cell phones, rushing to the next meeting – it began to dawn on her that even with everything she had discovered in the last couple of days – nothing had changed in the world. She glanced at the people around her, the man on the corner shouting into his cell phone, the woman who rushed past her to reach a vacant cab before anyone else. Had anything earth shattering or personally challenging happened to either of them yesterday? People did still rush around, heading to meetings and dealing with people they most likely wouldn't if they had a choice.

What really had changed about her? She concluded that not much had really changed; she'd discovered some truths about how she had wound up here. Filling in the facts hadn't changed where she was or what she did or she was. As these thoughts spun around in her head, so did a question.

_What's next_? As she continued walking, no answer presented itself, just the question continuing to swirl around. Finally, an answer did come to her, one single word – home. Figuratively giving up the battle she turned in the direction of her apartment.

As the sun began to dip below the artificial horizon of the Manhattan skyline, the air began to chill and she wrapped her arms tight against her. Hope reached her apartment building as the street lamps slowly began to light. Not having her apartment key, she had to get the door man to get a copy from the management office.

As he handed her the key, he hesitantly asked, "Is everything okay, Ms Thornton? Is there anything I can do for you?"

She peered into the polished silver frame around the elevator door and was shocked to see the image reflected back at her. She looked disheveled and raised a hand to her hair. "I… I guess I look pretty bad, it's been a hell of a long day, I left my purse at... I'm fine though, really. Thank, thank you for asking though."

Punching the call button for the elevator, she turned back to smile at the man. "Do you know Detective Goren; he lives in the other tower?" As the man nodded, the elevator doors opened and she stepped in and turned back to face him again. "Do you know if he's … home? Have you seen him come in?"

"No, I haven't. I just came on duty about fifteen minutes ago. If you want, I could…"

Hope shook her head and said, "No, that's … no." She let the doors slide close, but not before she saw the confused look cross the door man's face. She spoke softly to the closed door, "I think it is better that I don't know." She imagined the next few days and weeks were going to be difficult for her, for them both.

Unlocking the door, she followed it in as she pushed it inward. Stepping in far enough to allow the door to close, she pushed it back and fell against it. She stood there, back up against the door and let her grow accustomed to the dim light. _What next? What did she want? _She still didn't know.

_Think about the basics_. Food? Drink? Shower? Sleep? She decided on something to drink and then sleep. Everything else could wait. Eyesight now adjusted to the light, she jumped as she saw the dark shape across the room. Her hand slowly slid up the wall to find the light switch. Flipping it up, she found herself staring at a disheveled Robert Goren.

Each stared silently at the other. Hope broke the silence, asking, "How did you get in?"

Bobby answered flatly, "Your keys, you left your things downtown. I thought you would need them."

She nodded, but unsure of how to respond, she nervously blurted out, "I'm thirsty. I'm going to get something to drink." She walked out into the kitchen leaving a perplexed Goren staring at her back. "Can… do you want anything?" she hollered as she pulled a clean glass from the cupboard.

_What do I want?_ He asked himself.

Not hearing an answer, she poured herself a glass of cold water and took several deeps gulps, before refilling the glass and returning to the living room.

She sat on the sofa, across from Bobby. This time though, neither looked at the other. After several sips from her glass, she asked, "So what happened after I left?"

Watching her and trying to gauge her state of mind, he said, "The Brits came and took Whitledge. I imagine he's somewhere over the Atlantic on his way back to England. It's over."

Watching him and trying to gauge his emotions, she nodded, "Yeah, I guess it is, over that is."

"So… what's next?" He asked.

She chuckled, "What's next? Short term, long term, I don't have a clue." Setting her glass down, she ran the fingers of both hands through her hair. "What's next now, in the next ten minutes? I think, I think I want to lie down. I think I want to stop thinking about 'what's next'. That's what I want."

Standing up, she looked down at him, "So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to lie down. And you, well I guess that means that you can do whatever you want to do, too."

_"You can do whatever you want to do." _He sat there watching her walk away._ "You can do whatever you want to do." _

_"What was it that he wanted?"_

She turned and walked in the bedroom, leaving the door open and crawling onto the bed. Grabbing the blanket from the end of the bed up around her, she pulled it up around her and turned onto her side.

Bobby stood and walked towards the door.

_'have a little faith in your feelings' … 'stop running' … 'you can do whatever you want to do'…_

That's what I want to do. I want to stop running. I want to have faith in _my_ feelings.

* * *

As soon as Hope felt the mattress sag under Bobby's weight, her heart froze and her breathing stopped. She heard first one shoe drop, then the other. She felt the mattress shift as Bobby stretched out on it and she felt the warmth of his body as he slid towards her and his arm came over her.

Bobby's hand searched out hers and he whispered, "This is what I want. You are what I want."

Hope pulled his hand to her chest and held onto it tightly. As she leaned back into him, she nodded her head and whispered, "Me too."

As she drifted off to sleep, she wasn't sure how it happened, but she realized she really had made it home.

As he drifted off to sleep, he wasn't sure how it happened, but he realized he had finally found a home.

* * *

The End… for now.


End file.
